Christmas movies, cutting down a tree, opening presents in pajamas, and a quiet dinner with family. These are the things that make up my family Christmas traditions growing up. I love Christmas, I enjoy the time of year when people stress the importance of giving and being kind to one another, being grateful for what you have, and the joy of looking forward to new things as well, both literally and figuratively as you head towards the new year.
Here's one of my favorite family traditions. Every morning on Christmas, after we've rummaged through our stockings, and had a nice big home-made breakfast, we would gather in the living room and my sister and I would play "elves". We would gather the gifts from under the tree and hand one to each person so that we could all open them together. After each round, my sister and I would still have plenty of gifts, and my dad was always the first one without anything to open. But to his and our delight, my mother would gasp in surprise as my sister and I would find yet another little present under the tree that said, "To: Sally" from "Rob".
Without fail, this happens EVERY year. My dad always buys a bunch of presents for my mom, and she always acts surprised. My sister and I would roll our eyes every year as she would exclaim, "what? another one? for me?!" and we would smile and laugh when she would say, "oh you shouldn't have!" Because of course he should have.
My family is spending Christmas with my grandmother in Indiana this year so I won't get to watch the whole spectacle, but I trust that Dad won't let us down.
Merry Christmas!
Monday, December 24, 2012
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Not your enemy
Yesterday I got into a heated discussion with someone online. Well, at least it was heated on his part. I tried to keep my response about how I feel personally, and never mentioned anything political, never tried to persuade him to my point of view. After a little back and forth I thought it was done, only to find that he had private messaged me to further make his point.
I could have very easily become upset and thrown insults right back at him, but I chose my words carefully, giving him the benefit of the doubt and speaking respectfully, while at the same time letting him know that I wouldn't tolerate being disrespected myself.
Without going into the whole conversation, I woke up this morning to find a very gracious and sincere apology in my inbox. He even offered to buy me a cup of coffee.
This is what it means when Jesus says to love your enemy. The enemy is not some guy in a mask with a gun who might rob your house, that you hopefully never meet. It's the neighbor who backed over your mailbox, or the guy who cut you in line at the bank. It's the friend you get into fights with all the time because your opinions are just so different. Really, the enemy is your own pride. The enemy is our inability to see others from God's perspective.
With tensions high, there is lots of room for misunderstanding, and it's easy to want to try and best someone with whit or spite. But give it a try, you might just get a free cup of coffee! Here are my tips for how to conquer through love:
1. Give up the need to be "right"- It should never be about "winning" an argument. Rather, people just want to know that they are heard and understood. If you show them that you understand their perspective, even though you may not agree with it, you are much more likely to be able to have a respectful discourse.
2. Don't jump to conclusions- Give people the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the person is having a bad day, maybe they are hurting, maybe this topic brings up something painful for them that is hard to express. Don't assume the someone is just being mean for the sake of it.
3. Don't take it personally- The words people say and the way they conduct themselves says more about them than it does you, and the same goes for YOU!
4. Speak from your own perspective- say things like "I feel" or "in my experience" instead of making broad general statements about other people. "YOU do this" or "THEY say that" etc..
5. Imagine a person- This is especially helpful online, where all you see is the written text. Imagine the person on the other side of that keyboard. Someone who is so much more complex than a few statements they make on a website. A person with real feelings, relationships, and experiences. Someone's mother or father, sister, brother, daughter, or son. Give them some humanity, and know that they are not defined by the words that they say...and neither are you, but your words are a tool that can either heal or hurt.
6. Know when to walk away- This is similar to letting go of being right. At some point, if none of the above seems to be getting you anywhere, it may be time to gracefully exit the conversation, as continuing to feed into the drama will only cause more harm than good. Just remember to do it politely :)
You can conquer someone with weapons, whether those weapons be guns or words, but when you turn enemies into friends, you build yourself an army. And if you seek to turn all your enemies into friends, eventually there will be no one left to fight.
Jesus also told us, "Whatever a man sows, that he will also reap."
Choose to sow seeds of love. They may take longer to bloom, but the blossoms are sweeter and will not wilt or fade in winter, but will grow stronger and more beautiful.
I could have very easily become upset and thrown insults right back at him, but I chose my words carefully, giving him the benefit of the doubt and speaking respectfully, while at the same time letting him know that I wouldn't tolerate being disrespected myself.
Without going into the whole conversation, I woke up this morning to find a very gracious and sincere apology in my inbox. He even offered to buy me a cup of coffee.
This is what it means when Jesus says to love your enemy. The enemy is not some guy in a mask with a gun who might rob your house, that you hopefully never meet. It's the neighbor who backed over your mailbox, or the guy who cut you in line at the bank. It's the friend you get into fights with all the time because your opinions are just so different. Really, the enemy is your own pride. The enemy is our inability to see others from God's perspective.
With tensions high, there is lots of room for misunderstanding, and it's easy to want to try and best someone with whit or spite. But give it a try, you might just get a free cup of coffee! Here are my tips for how to conquer through love:
1. Give up the need to be "right"- It should never be about "winning" an argument. Rather, people just want to know that they are heard and understood. If you show them that you understand their perspective, even though you may not agree with it, you are much more likely to be able to have a respectful discourse.
2. Don't jump to conclusions- Give people the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the person is having a bad day, maybe they are hurting, maybe this topic brings up something painful for them that is hard to express. Don't assume the someone is just being mean for the sake of it.
3. Don't take it personally- The words people say and the way they conduct themselves says more about them than it does you, and the same goes for YOU!
4. Speak from your own perspective- say things like "I feel" or "in my experience" instead of making broad general statements about other people. "YOU do this" or "THEY say that" etc..
5. Imagine a person- This is especially helpful online, where all you see is the written text. Imagine the person on the other side of that keyboard. Someone who is so much more complex than a few statements they make on a website. A person with real feelings, relationships, and experiences. Someone's mother or father, sister, brother, daughter, or son. Give them some humanity, and know that they are not defined by the words that they say...and neither are you, but your words are a tool that can either heal or hurt.
6. Know when to walk away- This is similar to letting go of being right. At some point, if none of the above seems to be getting you anywhere, it may be time to gracefully exit the conversation, as continuing to feed into the drama will only cause more harm than good. Just remember to do it politely :)
You can conquer someone with weapons, whether those weapons be guns or words, but when you turn enemies into friends, you build yourself an army. And if you seek to turn all your enemies into friends, eventually there will be no one left to fight.
Jesus also told us, "Whatever a man sows, that he will also reap."
Choose to sow seeds of love. They may take longer to bloom, but the blossoms are sweeter and will not wilt or fade in winter, but will grow stronger and more beautiful.
Monday, December 17, 2012
For those left waiting
It's unimaginable, and yet, every parent around the world, the moment they heard about the school shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School on Friday, imagined. What if? What if that were MY child?
I have watched very little news coverage. I don't want to relive it over and over. I don't want to be party to speculation of how this could or could not be prevented, the shooter's motives, or using it as some sort of political leverage.
The first and only article I read about the event described the children being evacuated from the school and brought to the local firehouse where their parents were waiting. I keep going back to that firehouse, imagining myself there, waiting for my child to come, the relief of seeing them walk through that door. Or, the agony of being one of the parents left waiting for their baby who would never come. I imagine un-opened Christmas presents, and empty chairs.
The stories of the heroic teachers that protected their students give a moment of peace, until I remember that they were someone's child too.
All I know to do is to pray for those families, to offer up my support, and to hug my children extra tight.
Tragedies like this remind us of our humanity. It reminds me that we are lucky to be alive, that everything we have is a gift, that tomorrow is not promised to anyone. It reminds me that no matter what boundaries separate us, whether it be oceans, or continents, or religion, or politics, we all love our children. We all would give our lives for theirs if we could.
For everyone lucky enough: Cherish your children, hold them extra tightly. Thank God for every day that you are together.
For the parents left waiting: May a God who shares the heart of a grieving parent and who mourns for every lost child, be with you.
and for those children: May a God who is a loving parent wrap you in his arms.
I have watched very little news coverage. I don't want to relive it over and over. I don't want to be party to speculation of how this could or could not be prevented, the shooter's motives, or using it as some sort of political leverage.
The first and only article I read about the event described the children being evacuated from the school and brought to the local firehouse where their parents were waiting. I keep going back to that firehouse, imagining myself there, waiting for my child to come, the relief of seeing them walk through that door. Or, the agony of being one of the parents left waiting for their baby who would never come. I imagine un-opened Christmas presents, and empty chairs.
The stories of the heroic teachers that protected their students give a moment of peace, until I remember that they were someone's child too.
All I know to do is to pray for those families, to offer up my support, and to hug my children extra tight.
Tragedies like this remind us of our humanity. It reminds me that we are lucky to be alive, that everything we have is a gift, that tomorrow is not promised to anyone. It reminds me that no matter what boundaries separate us, whether it be oceans, or continents, or religion, or politics, we all love our children. We all would give our lives for theirs if we could.
For everyone lucky enough: Cherish your children, hold them extra tightly. Thank God for every day that you are together.
For the parents left waiting: May a God who shares the heart of a grieving parent and who mourns for every lost child, be with you.
and for those children: May a God who is a loving parent wrap you in his arms.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Do you hear what I hear?
Sometimes you wonder if your kids even listen to you at all.
like my son Miles. He has a little bit of a perfectionist complex. He has to do things a certain way, and everything has to go exactly according to his plan or it's melt down city. I've been dealing with this for about two years now. This is a kid who directs everything down to what everyone is supposed to say ("say, 'oh, I wonder what's in there!' say that Mama, say that!") and tells me where I'm supposed to hide during a game of hide and seek. Sometimes I do okay, I give him a speech about how things don't always have to be perfect, that we can still have fun even if it doesn't go the way we planned. Other times, I have a mini-meltdown of my own and I wonder if it's ever really going to sink in. God forbid someone cut his sandwich the wrong way or open the door before he does!
Maybe he'll grow out of it, but I can name more than a few adults who have this same problem, and this is one thing I don't want him to carry with him all his life. It's one thing to want to do your best, but it can be debilitating if done to excess.
The other day we visited with some old friends who have a five year old daughter. The dad is one of my husband's best friends, they used to play in a band together. We met them at his parents' house where there is still a full drum set in the basement. Miles now wants to have a band and be a "drummer for life!". The two kids were playing happily in the basement, banging on drums and singing into the microphone, until the little girl came stomping up the stairs and sat down at the table, arms crossed and a frown on her face. Miles followed quickly after. He went up to her, put his hand on her shoulder and said,
"I know it's hard when you want things to be perfect, but things don't always have to be perfect."
She was not convinced, although eventually she was able to get over whatever it was and get back to playing again.
But right there my heart did a back flip and landed in a split, pom poms waving. He's listening! It's actually sinking in!
Even though I might have to give the same speech a hundred more times without any indication that he "gets it", he does hear me.
Keep on talking, even if you think it'll never sink in. Patience works both ways.
like my son Miles. He has a little bit of a perfectionist complex. He has to do things a certain way, and everything has to go exactly according to his plan or it's melt down city. I've been dealing with this for about two years now. This is a kid who directs everything down to what everyone is supposed to say ("say, 'oh, I wonder what's in there!' say that Mama, say that!") and tells me where I'm supposed to hide during a game of hide and seek. Sometimes I do okay, I give him a speech about how things don't always have to be perfect, that we can still have fun even if it doesn't go the way we planned. Other times, I have a mini-meltdown of my own and I wonder if it's ever really going to sink in. God forbid someone cut his sandwich the wrong way or open the door before he does!
Maybe he'll grow out of it, but I can name more than a few adults who have this same problem, and this is one thing I don't want him to carry with him all his life. It's one thing to want to do your best, but it can be debilitating if done to excess.
The other day we visited with some old friends who have a five year old daughter. The dad is one of my husband's best friends, they used to play in a band together. We met them at his parents' house where there is still a full drum set in the basement. Miles now wants to have a band and be a "drummer for life!". The two kids were playing happily in the basement, banging on drums and singing into the microphone, until the little girl came stomping up the stairs and sat down at the table, arms crossed and a frown on her face. Miles followed quickly after. He went up to her, put his hand on her shoulder and said,
"I know it's hard when you want things to be perfect, but things don't always have to be perfect."
She was not convinced, although eventually she was able to get over whatever it was and get back to playing again.
But right there my heart did a back flip and landed in a split, pom poms waving. He's listening! It's actually sinking in!
Even though I might have to give the same speech a hundred more times without any indication that he "gets it", he does hear me.
Keep on talking, even if you think it'll never sink in. Patience works both ways.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Making the best with what you've got!
Is it just me, or does the cold weather make you want to curl up under a blanket, read a book, and fall asleep?
I wish I was an animal and could hibernate all through winter.
Alas, I must dig out my snow boots and scarves, and find some mis-matched gloves. It adds an extra ten minutes to my morning routine of getting out the door, which is golden time when you have too little kids in tow.
Here are some tips that have kept me warm, thrifty, and sane this holiday:
Tip 1: my old winter boots broke (the soles came off and let the water in! no good) so instead of buying new ones, I cut the sleeves off an old wool sweater, sewed up the ends, and made long socks to fit inside and insulate my rain boots, voila! instant all-weather boots. (Seriously, I don't sew. If I can do this, anyone can.)
Tip 2: If your kids knock down the Christmas tree (a plastic one that is) and one of the legs breaks off, just take the top of the tree and put it with the taped-up base on top of a table or bookshelf. Ours is happily resting on top of the TV Wardrobe, away from rambunctious boys. Bonus: presents and breakable ornaments are also out of reach!
Tip 3: I often give this as a gift at Christmas time, but it's fun to just make for myself too. Instead of buying Swiss Miss, I make my own Hot Chocolate mix out of evaporated milk, Cocoa powder, powdered creamer, confectioners sugar, and mini chocolate chips...yum! There are tons of recipes online, but these are the basic ingredients, and the ratios often depend on your taste. You can mix it up by adding flavored creamer, or cinnamon, marshmallows, peppermint sticks...the possibilities are endless! (Tip: for extra chocolaty-ness add in a package of instant chocolate jello pudding. You're welcome.)
http://allrecipes.com/recipe/hot-cocoa-mix/
What are some of your best tips for getting through the season?
I wish I was an animal and could hibernate all through winter.
Alas, I must dig out my snow boots and scarves, and find some mis-matched gloves. It adds an extra ten minutes to my morning routine of getting out the door, which is golden time when you have too little kids in tow.
Here are some tips that have kept me warm, thrifty, and sane this holiday:
Tip 1: my old winter boots broke (the soles came off and let the water in! no good) so instead of buying new ones, I cut the sleeves off an old wool sweater, sewed up the ends, and made long socks to fit inside and insulate my rain boots, voila! instant all-weather boots. (Seriously, I don't sew. If I can do this, anyone can.)
Tip 2: If your kids knock down the Christmas tree (a plastic one that is) and one of the legs breaks off, just take the top of the tree and put it with the taped-up base on top of a table or bookshelf. Ours is happily resting on top of the TV Wardrobe, away from rambunctious boys. Bonus: presents and breakable ornaments are also out of reach!
Tip 3: I often give this as a gift at Christmas time, but it's fun to just make for myself too. Instead of buying Swiss Miss, I make my own Hot Chocolate mix out of evaporated milk, Cocoa powder, powdered creamer, confectioners sugar, and mini chocolate chips...yum! There are tons of recipes online, but these are the basic ingredients, and the ratios often depend on your taste. You can mix it up by adding flavored creamer, or cinnamon, marshmallows, peppermint sticks...the possibilities are endless! (Tip: for extra chocolaty-ness add in a package of instant chocolate jello pudding. You're welcome.)
http://allrecipes.com/recipe/hot-cocoa-mix/
What are some of your best tips for getting through the season?
Saturday, December 1, 2012
The Other Side of November
First, I want to apologize for not posting as regularly during this past month. I have a good excuse!
November is notoriously the most busy, gloriously crazy month of the year for me. Not because of the holidays, but because for the last four years I've participated in NanoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). It's run by a non-profit organization called the Office of Letters and Light, and it's a challenge to write a Novel (50,000 words) in 30 days.
I've always wanted to be a writer, and the great thing about NanoWriMo, is that it pushes you to just write, write consistantly, and to let go of your inner editor (you know, that voice that says, "you're not a writer! what do you think you're doing! this is stupid, no one's going to want to read this!" He can be quite unpleasant.)
The joy I've found in letting the words flow, in creating worlds and letting my characters take me to new and unexpected places has brought me back year after year, and for the second time in four years I'm proud to say that I made my goal and can officially call myself a winner!
Phew!
It's been a wild ride. For those of you who cheered me on, Thank You! I wouldn't have made it without my writing buddies. One of the great things about this year was that I was able to do it along side so many people.
If you are interested in checking out NanoWriMo and all the great programs they do throughout the year, check out their website: http://nanowrimo.org/en/dashboard
As for me, a short breather and then it's on to the next frontier: Editing!
stay tuned for hair-pulling updates :)
Happy December!
November is notoriously the most busy, gloriously crazy month of the year for me. Not because of the holidays, but because for the last four years I've participated in NanoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). It's run by a non-profit organization called the Office of Letters and Light, and it's a challenge to write a Novel (50,000 words) in 30 days.
I've always wanted to be a writer, and the great thing about NanoWriMo, is that it pushes you to just write, write consistantly, and to let go of your inner editor (you know, that voice that says, "you're not a writer! what do you think you're doing! this is stupid, no one's going to want to read this!" He can be quite unpleasant.)
The joy I've found in letting the words flow, in creating worlds and letting my characters take me to new and unexpected places has brought me back year after year, and for the second time in four years I'm proud to say that I made my goal and can officially call myself a winner!
Phew!
It's been a wild ride. For those of you who cheered me on, Thank You! I wouldn't have made it without my writing buddies. One of the great things about this year was that I was able to do it along side so many people.
If you are interested in checking out NanoWriMo and all the great programs they do throughout the year, check out their website: http://nanowrimo.org/en/dashboard
As for me, a short breather and then it's on to the next frontier: Editing!
stay tuned for hair-pulling updates :)
Happy December!
Friday, November 16, 2012
The Santa Card
It may not just be the commercialization of Christmas that keeps Santa alive. Just maybe, it's parents all over the world who realize that the threat of no toys on Christmas is an extremely effective behavior modification tool.
Just recently my husband played the Santa Card. My son is only four, and so previous to this, we had talked about Santa, but never in any serious way, he was just a fun character in the overall joyfulness of Christmas. But this time he is fully aware. As his dad explained that Santa would be watching and seeing if he's a good boy, I could see him take it all in. I didn't realize the power of it, until my usually rambunctious boy, without a word, calmly sat down at the table and ate his dinner like a little gentleman. I was beyond astonished. So, I wasn't sure about this at first...it seems like the easy way out. I have to admit though, the magic of it got me a couple of times, and I have since used it on a few occasions. I don't want to overdo it though, what if the magic runs out?! I have to milk this while I can!
And yet, I feel a little guilty. Am I setting him up for disappointment down the road?
That's another reason not to overdo it, I don't want it to be just a negative thing, the card that I pull out as a threat, I want to be able to emphasize the positive spirit of giving. I have always wanted to, when the kids are old enough, start a yearly tradition of having them donate some of their toys or clothes, or helping out with a food drive. Maybe this is the year.
Santa is watching...
Just recently my husband played the Santa Card. My son is only four, and so previous to this, we had talked about Santa, but never in any serious way, he was just a fun character in the overall joyfulness of Christmas. But this time he is fully aware. As his dad explained that Santa would be watching and seeing if he's a good boy, I could see him take it all in. I didn't realize the power of it, until my usually rambunctious boy, without a word, calmly sat down at the table and ate his dinner like a little gentleman. I was beyond astonished. So, I wasn't sure about this at first...it seems like the easy way out. I have to admit though, the magic of it got me a couple of times, and I have since used it on a few occasions. I don't want to overdo it though, what if the magic runs out?! I have to milk this while I can!
And yet, I feel a little guilty. Am I setting him up for disappointment down the road?
That's another reason not to overdo it, I don't want it to be just a negative thing, the card that I pull out as a threat, I want to be able to emphasize the positive spirit of giving. I have always wanted to, when the kids are old enough, start a yearly tradition of having them donate some of their toys or clothes, or helping out with a food drive. Maybe this is the year.
Santa is watching...
Monday, November 12, 2012
A moth in a box OR A four year old contemplates the afterlife
There is a dead moth, curled up inside an origami box, on top of my kitchen counter.
I had been cleaning in the living room, and was making my way to the bedroom when Miles came running in and said, "mama, someone killed a moth!"
My first thought, "did you kill a moth?"
Miles: "no! someone else did it! come see!"
really?
I had my eye on the clock, it was almost time to start the bedtime routine.
sigh...alright.
as I followed him out to the living room he came to the place where there was indeed a small dead moth on the floor. He bent down beside it and gingerly scooped it up, cupping it in his tiny hand.
"see?" he said, holding it out to me.
"yeah, I see" I said with fake enthusiasm. "Okay, lets throw it away..."
But Miles would not have it, "no! he's my friend!", he says.
Uh Oh. I see where this is going now.
I turned to my only frame of reference when it comes to kids and talking about death: the episode of The Cosby Show where Rudy's goldfish, Mr. Fish, dies. Thanks Cosby Show, I know just what to do!
So I started fashioning the origami box (thank goodness our craft box is always well stocked), and I suggested we have a funeral.
"what's that?" He asked.
"when someone dies you have a funeral to say good bye to them, and their body goes in a box so they can rest." I explained, quite proud of my fast thinking.
Miles replied, "but I don't want him to be died! I want him to be alive! make him alive again!"
This is when he really started to get distressed. It was then I realized I was going to need more than the Cosby Show. I was out of my depth. Not knowing what else to say, I started explaining how we have a body, but we also have a spirit, and that our body dies and goes away (into the cemetery...we drive by one on the way to school so we have in theory broached this topic, but I could see him putting the pieces together probably for the first time) but your spirit stays and goes to heaven with God.
Then he started talking about the moth's friends and how much they would miss him. After each statement, he had another burst of tears.
I said, "yes, they will miss him, but they can talk to him anytime, just like you talk to God."
Miles is not amused, "but how does the moth go in my heart?"
So at that point I am pulling out all the big guns, wondering if this is too much for a four year old...but i'm already knee-deep, and he is asking the questions, so what am I supposed to do??
"Well, when you think about them and remember how much you love them, then you are talking to them in your heart."
Hey, good one mom!
But instead of calming him down he seemed to be even more upset. I finally convinced him to put the moth in the box and leave him with "his friends" while we got ready for bed.
We started to get our pajamas on and I wiped my brow, thinking we would read stories and not think about the moth anymore. but he starts to get even more upset, and is now choking back tears, "but...but....but..." Finally, as he fought through the tears he said, "but...if my body died....and...I go to heaven, and I'm with God....then I'll miss you so much!"
And I'm done.
The three of us (because my one year old is a little copy cat) collapse on the bed into one big crying bundle.
After a few minutes of crying, assuring him over and over that I wouldn't let anything happen to him, that we would be together for a long time, the tears turned into giggles, and Miles was bouncing on the bed as if nothing happened.
He'll most likely forget this moment (especially after I throw away that moth!). But I won't. I'll keep it in my heart, just like God, the people I love, and the moth.
I had been cleaning in the living room, and was making my way to the bedroom when Miles came running in and said, "mama, someone killed a moth!"
My first thought, "did you kill a moth?"
Miles: "no! someone else did it! come see!"
really?
I had my eye on the clock, it was almost time to start the bedtime routine.
sigh...alright.
as I followed him out to the living room he came to the place where there was indeed a small dead moth on the floor. He bent down beside it and gingerly scooped it up, cupping it in his tiny hand.
"see?" he said, holding it out to me.
"yeah, I see" I said with fake enthusiasm. "Okay, lets throw it away..."
But Miles would not have it, "no! he's my friend!", he says.
Uh Oh. I see where this is going now.
I turned to my only frame of reference when it comes to kids and talking about death: the episode of The Cosby Show where Rudy's goldfish, Mr. Fish, dies. Thanks Cosby Show, I know just what to do!
So I started fashioning the origami box (thank goodness our craft box is always well stocked), and I suggested we have a funeral.
"what's that?" He asked.
"when someone dies you have a funeral to say good bye to them, and their body goes in a box so they can rest." I explained, quite proud of my fast thinking.
Miles replied, "but I don't want him to be died! I want him to be alive! make him alive again!"
This is when he really started to get distressed. It was then I realized I was going to need more than the Cosby Show. I was out of my depth. Not knowing what else to say, I started explaining how we have a body, but we also have a spirit, and that our body dies and goes away (into the cemetery...we drive by one on the way to school so we have in theory broached this topic, but I could see him putting the pieces together probably for the first time) but your spirit stays and goes to heaven with God.
Then he started talking about the moth's friends and how much they would miss him. After each statement, he had another burst of tears.
I said, "yes, they will miss him, but they can talk to him anytime, just like you talk to God."
Miles is not amused, "but how does the moth go in my heart?"
So at that point I am pulling out all the big guns, wondering if this is too much for a four year old...but i'm already knee-deep, and he is asking the questions, so what am I supposed to do??
"Well, when you think about them and remember how much you love them, then you are talking to them in your heart."
Hey, good one mom!
But instead of calming him down he seemed to be even more upset. I finally convinced him to put the moth in the box and leave him with "his friends" while we got ready for bed.
We started to get our pajamas on and I wiped my brow, thinking we would read stories and not think about the moth anymore. but he starts to get even more upset, and is now choking back tears, "but...but....but..." Finally, as he fought through the tears he said, "but...if my body died....and...I go to heaven, and I'm with God....then I'll miss you so much!"
And I'm done.
The three of us (because my one year old is a little copy cat) collapse on the bed into one big crying bundle.
After a few minutes of crying, assuring him over and over that I wouldn't let anything happen to him, that we would be together for a long time, the tears turned into giggles, and Miles was bouncing on the bed as if nothing happened.
He'll most likely forget this moment (especially after I throw away that moth!). But I won't. I'll keep it in my heart, just like God, the people I love, and the moth.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Outside the Lines
"Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.”- Buddha
you don't have to be a religious person to worry about passing on morals and values to your kids. But I think for religious people there is an even greater pressure to instill not just a moral compass, but the specific religious framework and practices that help to guide it. This is something I think about a lot as a parent, even though my children are quite young. As a parent, you have your own experience with what you believe is true, your own deep passion and relationship with your faith or lack there of. But those things do not automatically translate to the next generation.
How do I pass on these things to my children? And what exactly do I want them to inherit?
In pondering these things I have to think about what I inherited from my own parents, and how those things contributed to my life of faith. Upon reflection, I'm starting to believe that maybe it's not any particular ideology or system that is itself faulty or divine, but it's about how we as humans put it into practice.
In the early days of our movement, members, like my parents, were told to give up everything, to leave their families and homes to do God's work. They sacrificed their college educations, jobs, and relationships with their families to take up a cause that they believed in. While there were many who powered through and came out better for the experience, many were also hurt.
I always hear people talk about how a leader "forced" them to do something or "I wasn't allowed to". While I sympathize with people and certainly acknowledge that wrongs have been committed, I could never quite buy into especially the brainwashing claim, because at a time when my mother was told she couldn't go home for Christmas, even when her father was in the hospital, she went anyway. When she was fundraising and realized that she was "spiritually dead" and did not want to fundraise anymore, she stopped. She left. and yet, she was never excommunicated, and she never turned her back on her faith. She did not walk out with bitterness and resentment. She simply continued to follow her own inner wisdom, and she fought for her own spiritual life. To me, this is what true ownership of faith is all about.
My mother's decision to declare, "my children are my mission now" when she became a mother, was part of what helped me to make the decision to stay at home with my own children. I remember even as a young child being very grateful to her for that. I understood that she was putting her family and children first, ME first, and the love and dedication I felt from that, translated into my experience of God's love. It's why I believe in a God who wants me to be happy and Joyful, who is not just some absent being up in the sky, but a parent.
I know for me, the things that touch me about my own parents' faith, are not how many rallies they attended, or how much money they made fundraising. It's the stories of their personal experiences with God, of working through struggles, and finding Joy and truth. It's watching my father get choked up by a bible verse, or my mother lost in prayer.
What I hope to find is a balance between communicating what I believe to be true, my own faith and experience, while also being sensitive to the uniqueness and individuality of my child. As a parent, if I really believe in my faith, then of course I want to teach it to my children, because if I didn't think it was right I wouldn't be following it. But as a believer, I must also be humble enough to know that I may not always know what is best, and that I can guide and support and nurture, but in the end, there must be an ownership of faith by the child. At a certain point, it is up to them, and I must put my faith in God that he is leading them when I cannot see the path.
I grew up in a religion that claimed "not to be a religion" but a movement. It wanted to be beyond religion (perhaps all religions start out this way), in order to unite all peoples of faith, and yet, it has become comfortably situated as it's own little "Christianity knock-off," lost in rituals and politics, in an endless series of "duty" and "faith without works", the very failures we have criticized modern Christianity for.
The thing that resonates with me about my faith, is the inclusiveness, the unity, the fact that I can read an Islamic text or do a Buddhist mediation and feel God in all of those things. To know that I am not limited by man made boundaries.
I had a good experience overall growing up in the movement, probably 70-30, maybe even 80-20. But many people did not, many people my own age have heartbreaking stories and are still dealing with very real pain.
Everyone will have their own interpretations of what it means to be a "true" Christian, a "true" Unificationist, a "good" person. What I think it comes down to in the end is responsibility. There is no ownership in simply following along with the majority because that is what is expected. If "faith without works" is dead, then "works without faith" is an undead zombie like existence of conformity. Real ownership of faith means evaluating everything, even if it goes against the acceptable or majority opinion.
It is a balance for sure. I must be self aware enough to know that I am resisting something out of fear, pride, ego, or emotion, rather than prayerful contemplation, and self study.
America, we are a land of revolutionaries. We do not do obedience well. But if we are loyal to anything, it's to that very freedom for every man to forge his own path. As religious people, we have forgotten to trust God with our children, thinking that we needed to pound religion into their heads. When all he is really asking for is a chance to speak to them directly.
What I've learned in my life of faith is that no matter what, it is about me and God. Everything else is just secondary, and frankly, no one else's business. If I worry about judgement from others, then I am a part of judgement as well.
So how will I raise my children?
Honestly, I don't care if my kids wake up and do HDH, I don't care if they go to all of the workshops and weekly bible study. I don't even care if they decide to marry someone of a different faith. What I want for my children, is a real relationship with God, for them to know their identity and value as his beautiful son. I want them to be wrapped in love by the presence of God through their family and community. I want them to develop compassion and empathy, to be peace makers, and servants, the kinds of people who make a difference in the world for the better. Maybe sunday school and workshops can do that, but if not, I'm okay with that.
None of this is a prescription, it's just my own thoughts, and I even reserve the right to change my mind. But I am grateful for the things that growing up in this movement has brought me, even the bad, because it made me into the person I am today. More than anything though, I deeply cherish the particular brand of religion that my parents gave to me. For better or worse, I'll always color just a little outside the lines. And isn't that what all the great artists do after all?
Friday, November 2, 2012
We're going to be okay
I haven't posted anything for almost two weeks! This is the longest i've gone without updating. I could blame it on the storm, we still don't have internet due to Hurricane Sandy, I'm writing and posting this from my iphone, which has it's own challenges.
I've never seen an aftermath quite like this before. A huge branch from the neighbors tree just missed our car. We were also extremely lucky to have never lost power as 80% of my town did. There are cops outside directing traffic for cars waiting to get gas and people lined up around the block with their gas cans.
A friend of mine was just driving and tried to make a right turn, she had to go through the line of cars waiting to get into the gas station (that stretches probably four blocks and blocks off all the side streets). People started knocking on her wind shield saying that she was "going to get killed" because they thought she was trying to cut the line.
But I've also been uplifted by my Facebook feed, which has been filled with posts of people cooking hot meals and sending them to senior centers who are without power, a collective group of people all sharing which stores are open in the community, where you can charge your phone, and get free wifi. I myself have been inviting people over who haven't been as lucky for hot meals, coffee, and showers (we still have plenty of everything, come on over! I even have bags of ice in the freezer and water that we didn't have to use if anyone needs it...also batteries galore!)
The environment is this weird mix of desperation and panic, coupled with the strength and generosity of the human spirit. I like to think that the later will win out in the end. I am truly grateful to have a warm house, plenty of food, and running water. All of my family and friends are safe.
My husband couldn't go into work for three days while NYC transportation was shut down. Having him home, all snug and cozy together in our little apartment, made me feel that I had everything I needed.
Let's all remember what matters, and if you can, try and reach out to others who might need some assistance. Your local fire station or ambulance corps is a good place to start. Calling a neighbor to see if they need help is great too.
Stay safe everyone, we've still got some cleanup to do. These things happen, but we're going to be okay.
I've never seen an aftermath quite like this before. A huge branch from the neighbors tree just missed our car. We were also extremely lucky to have never lost power as 80% of my town did. There are cops outside directing traffic for cars waiting to get gas and people lined up around the block with their gas cans.
A friend of mine was just driving and tried to make a right turn, she had to go through the line of cars waiting to get into the gas station (that stretches probably four blocks and blocks off all the side streets). People started knocking on her wind shield saying that she was "going to get killed" because they thought she was trying to cut the line.
But I've also been uplifted by my Facebook feed, which has been filled with posts of people cooking hot meals and sending them to senior centers who are without power, a collective group of people all sharing which stores are open in the community, where you can charge your phone, and get free wifi. I myself have been inviting people over who haven't been as lucky for hot meals, coffee, and showers (we still have plenty of everything, come on over! I even have bags of ice in the freezer and water that we didn't have to use if anyone needs it...also batteries galore!)
The environment is this weird mix of desperation and panic, coupled with the strength and generosity of the human spirit. I like to think that the later will win out in the end. I am truly grateful to have a warm house, plenty of food, and running water. All of my family and friends are safe.
My husband couldn't go into work for three days while NYC transportation was shut down. Having him home, all snug and cozy together in our little apartment, made me feel that I had everything I needed.
Let's all remember what matters, and if you can, try and reach out to others who might need some assistance. Your local fire station or ambulance corps is a good place to start. Calling a neighbor to see if they need help is great too.
Stay safe everyone, we've still got some cleanup to do. These things happen, but we're going to be okay.
Friday, October 19, 2012
pins and needles
I used to be terrified of needles. I couldn't even watch someone getting a shot or having blood drawn on TV. The one and only time I donated blood was my senior year of high school. I was so pale and anxious that the nurses kept giving me extra cookies and wouldn't let me get up from the chair for fear of me fainting.
Did you ever see the movie Pearl Harbor? It's full of graphic war scenes, but the part I absolutely could not watch was when they needed blood and proceeded to stick themselves and drain it into coke bottles. :::shudder:::
Flash forward, last night I was laying face down with over 20 needles in my back, neck, and legs, having an acupuncture treatment.
I basically got over my fear of needles during my first pregnancy. The frequency certainly helped, having to face the fear over and over again eventually diminishes it's hold on you. But it was also the thought that I was doing it for a greater purpose. After all, I was going to go through labor, if I couldn't handle a little needle, what would become of me when it came time to deliver a baby? So I gritted my teeth and put on my big girl shoes.
Laying on a table with tiny needles sticking out of my body would at one point send me into a panic attack...I'll be honest, I have to consciously remind myself to breathe in the beginning when the acupuncturist starts putting the needles in, but after I cross that initial threshold, I let myself relax. I sometimes even doze off.
It's funny how something that used to terrify, is now a source of healing. It encourages me that though the circumstances of the moment might be less than perfect, in the long run, it might be the very thing we need.
Did you ever see the movie Pearl Harbor? It's full of graphic war scenes, but the part I absolutely could not watch was when they needed blood and proceeded to stick themselves and drain it into coke bottles. :::shudder:::
Flash forward, last night I was laying face down with over 20 needles in my back, neck, and legs, having an acupuncture treatment.
I basically got over my fear of needles during my first pregnancy. The frequency certainly helped, having to face the fear over and over again eventually diminishes it's hold on you. But it was also the thought that I was doing it for a greater purpose. After all, I was going to go through labor, if I couldn't handle a little needle, what would become of me when it came time to deliver a baby? So I gritted my teeth and put on my big girl shoes.
Laying on a table with tiny needles sticking out of my body would at one point send me into a panic attack...I'll be honest, I have to consciously remind myself to breathe in the beginning when the acupuncturist starts putting the needles in, but after I cross that initial threshold, I let myself relax. I sometimes even doze off.
It's funny how something that used to terrify, is now a source of healing. It encourages me that though the circumstances of the moment might be less than perfect, in the long run, it might be the very thing we need.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Why I'm not going to tell you who I'm voting for
Every four years I am told that the future of our country is at stake. That if I don't choose the right person, the world will fall to pieces, people will riot in the streets, or plagues of God will smite me.
I am told that my one tiny vote could be the difference between tyranny and freedom. blah blah blah.
Don't get me wrong, I know it's important, I know that the outcome of this next presidential election will set the trajectory for the next four years. But the constant drone of news coverage and social media posts, soon transforms into the screeching of a little chicken. You can only hear, "the sky is falling", so many times before you start to contemplate frying that chicken up for dinner.
The first election I ever voted in was 2004 (Bush V. Kerry). This was an interesting experience for me not just because it was the first election I was able to vote in, but because I did it through absentee ballot from Rome, where I was doing a study abroad semester. Under the tutilage of my very political, history major roommate, I woke up at three in the morning to watch the debates live on CNN, and spent hours talking about it the next day with other students. I remember going with one of my friends to the American embassy so that he could turn in his vote since he missed the cut off to mail it.
My first leap into politics was a weird mix of this kind of extreme commitment and physical distance. I actually feel lucky to have had this unique experience, since most of the news was from Europe and more focused on a worldwide perspective. Being removed from the battle ground, I didn't have to endure endless campaign commercials and I wasn't bombarded by 24 hour news coverage. The news that did come about the election was from a more international-dare I say, more rounded- perspective.
In 2008, back in the good old USA, I realized just how lucky I had been. Now, with another season upon us, it feels like the clamoring gets louder every time. Oh Roma, I miss you. I'm thinking if I ever get rich enough, I'll make a pilgrimage every four years, rent out a nice villa, and not come back till the second week in November.
I'm one of those people who "doesn't like politics". Actually, what I dislike more than politics is talking about it (okay, irony, I get it, bare with me). I'm an old fashioned kind of girl when it comes to some things. I think a man should take out the garbage, and that it's tres taboo to talk about politics at a dinner party. The most annoying one of all, though these things have become quite socially acceptable, my inner Dowager Countess can't help but wince when someone asks, "who are you voting for?"
Recently I tried to figure out why this bothers me so much. I mean, it's good to voice our opinions right? We should be able to engage in civil dialogue about the issues and the candidates. The thing is, it's not that simple.
To me, it has less to do about the candidates or the issues, or even the election, and more to do with our intense desire as human beings to know that we belong.
We want to know that someone is on our side, and if they are not, we want to convince them of why they are wrong (like that ever works!)
I have friends on both sides of the figurative aisle, my Facebook feed is a blue and red finger painting--I guess that makes me purple? It feels like middle school all over again, the need to fit in with a group, the fear of being rejected by one side or the other, that keeps us quietly going along with the status quo. Even as a young child, when we used to do mock elections in elementary school (oh the cardboard ballot box!) I didn't get it. What's the point in having a secret ballot if you go around asking and telling? Must we all put a button on our shirt or a sign on our lawn and declare our allegiance?
A few months ago I stumbled upon this TED talks video that spoke to the power of democracy, and also helped me to understand where this disconnect was coming from. It touched my politically-jaded heart and made me believe again:
To vote is not just a right, it's a sacred honor, a gift. The very fact that it is important, is what makes it worth protecting.
While I don't begrudge anyone who wants to make their choice known, that's your right too, for me, if anyone asks I'll have to say, "my vote is in my heart."
I am told that my one tiny vote could be the difference between tyranny and freedom. blah blah blah.
Don't get me wrong, I know it's important, I know that the outcome of this next presidential election will set the trajectory for the next four years. But the constant drone of news coverage and social media posts, soon transforms into the screeching of a little chicken. You can only hear, "the sky is falling", so many times before you start to contemplate frying that chicken up for dinner.
The first election I ever voted in was 2004 (Bush V. Kerry). This was an interesting experience for me not just because it was the first election I was able to vote in, but because I did it through absentee ballot from Rome, where I was doing a study abroad semester. Under the tutilage of my very political, history major roommate, I woke up at three in the morning to watch the debates live on CNN, and spent hours talking about it the next day with other students. I remember going with one of my friends to the American embassy so that he could turn in his vote since he missed the cut off to mail it.
My first leap into politics was a weird mix of this kind of extreme commitment and physical distance. I actually feel lucky to have had this unique experience, since most of the news was from Europe and more focused on a worldwide perspective. Being removed from the battle ground, I didn't have to endure endless campaign commercials and I wasn't bombarded by 24 hour news coverage. The news that did come about the election was from a more international-dare I say, more rounded- perspective.
In 2008, back in the good old USA, I realized just how lucky I had been. Now, with another season upon us, it feels like the clamoring gets louder every time. Oh Roma, I miss you. I'm thinking if I ever get rich enough, I'll make a pilgrimage every four years, rent out a nice villa, and not come back till the second week in November.
I'm one of those people who "doesn't like politics". Actually, what I dislike more than politics is talking about it (okay, irony, I get it, bare with me). I'm an old fashioned kind of girl when it comes to some things. I think a man should take out the garbage, and that it's tres taboo to talk about politics at a dinner party. The most annoying one of all, though these things have become quite socially acceptable, my inner Dowager Countess can't help but wince when someone asks, "who are you voting for?"
Recently I tried to figure out why this bothers me so much. I mean, it's good to voice our opinions right? We should be able to engage in civil dialogue about the issues and the candidates. The thing is, it's not that simple.
To me, it has less to do about the candidates or the issues, or even the election, and more to do with our intense desire as human beings to know that we belong.
We want to know that someone is on our side, and if they are not, we want to convince them of why they are wrong (like that ever works!)
I have friends on both sides of the figurative aisle, my Facebook feed is a blue and red finger painting--I guess that makes me purple? It feels like middle school all over again, the need to fit in with a group, the fear of being rejected by one side or the other, that keeps us quietly going along with the status quo. Even as a young child, when we used to do mock elections in elementary school (oh the cardboard ballot box!) I didn't get it. What's the point in having a secret ballot if you go around asking and telling? Must we all put a button on our shirt or a sign on our lawn and declare our allegiance?
A few months ago I stumbled upon this TED talks video that spoke to the power of democracy, and also helped me to understand where this disconnect was coming from. It touched my politically-jaded heart and made me believe again:
To vote is not just a right, it's a sacred honor, a gift. The very fact that it is important, is what makes it worth protecting.
While I don't begrudge anyone who wants to make their choice known, that's your right too, for me, if anyone asks I'll have to say, "my vote is in my heart."
Monday, October 1, 2012
squeaky clean
I like my showers hot, like turn your skin red hot. Especially when the cool weather starts to creep in, there's nothing more comforting than a steam filled bathroom.
No one told me when I first had children, that this very simple pleasure would very quickly become a luxury.
This morning with the baby asleep, and my three year old occupied with his morning cartoons, I took a long, hot, shower, and felt all the stress, anxiety, and grime wash away. The saying is true, you really don't know what you've got till it's gone. But maybe that's okay. Maybe you need the loss and the change to make you appreciate just how lovely even the simple moments can be.
Because it's not happiness that makes you grateful, it's gratitude that makes you happy.
I think I can squeeze in a cup of tea before the baby wakes up...
No one told me when I first had children, that this very simple pleasure would very quickly become a luxury.
This morning with the baby asleep, and my three year old occupied with his morning cartoons, I took a long, hot, shower, and felt all the stress, anxiety, and grime wash away. The saying is true, you really don't know what you've got till it's gone. But maybe that's okay. Maybe you need the loss and the change to make you appreciate just how lovely even the simple moments can be.
Because it's not happiness that makes you grateful, it's gratitude that makes you happy.
I think I can squeeze in a cup of tea before the baby wakes up...
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Healing me
I've been seeing a chiropractor twice a week ever since my car accident in June. The thing about Chiropractic care is that it's slow. It takes months, sometimes years to repair damage. Whether it's years of neglect or one massive moment of trauma, there is no quick fix. Healing takes time.
There's this poster in his office that says, "How you feel is not a good indicator of wellness." Every couple of months they pull out their fancy instruments and do a nerve scan to see which nerves are being pinched by the misalignment in my neck and spine. It's been awhile since I have had any major symptoms--I can sleep without pain, pick up the kids, and lug the trash out to the curb--but that damn nerve scan still shows up red in several places, meaning that there is still a long road of healing ahead. We don't always know the extent of our injury or hurt until we start trying to do something about it. Once the healing process begins, the more you uncover.
It's the same with emotional, or spiritual healing. We have to check in with ourselves every so often, and uncover those hidden hurts so that they don't become BIG hurts. And when they do, well, it just takes time.
We don't go to the dentist only when our tooth starts hurting, we check in every six months, and we brush our teeth every day. So why wait until life throws us a curve ball to examine our lives?
The past few weeks have been stressful, and I do my best to find the lessons in all of the challenges, but some days it just feels so heavy that all I want to do is hide under the covers and escape. I want to wait there until someone comes along to fix it all, to give me an answer to, "will I have to move?", "Can we afford daycare this month?", "Is everything going to be okay?"
And yet...
As much as I would love to have someone swoop in and fix it all, I am the one who is responsible for my own healing. Sure, I can check in, but I have to do my part, brush those teeth every day. If I stay and wait for someone else, then I have no power. If I think that I need an apology or an explanation, it only keeps me stuck there under those blankets. We are not always responsible for what happens to us, but we are responsible for how we react to it. We are responsible for our own healing.
Healing takes time, it takes consistency, and it takes honesty.
There's this poster in his office that says, "How you feel is not a good indicator of wellness." Every couple of months they pull out their fancy instruments and do a nerve scan to see which nerves are being pinched by the misalignment in my neck and spine. It's been awhile since I have had any major symptoms--I can sleep without pain, pick up the kids, and lug the trash out to the curb--but that damn nerve scan still shows up red in several places, meaning that there is still a long road of healing ahead. We don't always know the extent of our injury or hurt until we start trying to do something about it. Once the healing process begins, the more you uncover.
It's the same with emotional, or spiritual healing. We have to check in with ourselves every so often, and uncover those hidden hurts so that they don't become BIG hurts. And when they do, well, it just takes time.
We don't go to the dentist only when our tooth starts hurting, we check in every six months, and we brush our teeth every day. So why wait until life throws us a curve ball to examine our lives?
The past few weeks have been stressful, and I do my best to find the lessons in all of the challenges, but some days it just feels so heavy that all I want to do is hide under the covers and escape. I want to wait there until someone comes along to fix it all, to give me an answer to, "will I have to move?", "Can we afford daycare this month?", "Is everything going to be okay?"
And yet...
As much as I would love to have someone swoop in and fix it all, I am the one who is responsible for my own healing. Sure, I can check in, but I have to do my part, brush those teeth every day. If I stay and wait for someone else, then I have no power. If I think that I need an apology or an explanation, it only keeps me stuck there under those blankets. We are not always responsible for what happens to us, but we are responsible for how we react to it. We are responsible for our own healing.
Healing takes time, it takes consistency, and it takes honesty.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Sticks and Stones
That rhyme may comfort a five year old, but I think a truer adage is:
"the pen is mightier than the sword"
Words are important. Emotional wounds cut so much deeper and last long after the physical pain is gone. Sometimes we put it away, thinking it is gone for good, only to find that there is still a splinter left there, and the farther we dig, the deeper down it goes, an endless cavity of hurt and betrayal.
What we say to each other, and how we say it, especially in the age of the internet where everything is recorded, matters.
a friend of mine posted some advice to writers awhile back that went something like this:
before you publish anything:
1. pray
2. read what you have written more than once and ask if what you have said can be interpreted or misunderstood in any way
3. edit
4. ask a trusted person to read it and ask for honest feedback
5. edit
6. pray some more
7. edit, edit, edit!
8. publish at your own risk
(these were not the exact words, I sort of made up my own version of how I remember it, but it's the basic gist.)
Once we put something out there it is no longer just yours. Our words are at the mercy of how others hear them, through the filter of their own experiences, judgments, and uniqueness. Still, we are responsible for whatever we are putting out into the universe. Our words have the power to give great healing and comfort, but also to cause pain and destruction.
You can't please everyone all of the time, and you'd be doomed to make your writing depend on what others thought. But by checking our own motivations we can stand by our words knowing that we have acted with a heart of love and integrity. Then, when criticism comes, we are like a tree that does not break, but sways in the storm.
"the pen is mightier than the sword"
Words are important. Emotional wounds cut so much deeper and last long after the physical pain is gone. Sometimes we put it away, thinking it is gone for good, only to find that there is still a splinter left there, and the farther we dig, the deeper down it goes, an endless cavity of hurt and betrayal.
What we say to each other, and how we say it, especially in the age of the internet where everything is recorded, matters.
a friend of mine posted some advice to writers awhile back that went something like this:
before you publish anything:
1. pray
2. read what you have written more than once and ask if what you have said can be interpreted or misunderstood in any way
3. edit
4. ask a trusted person to read it and ask for honest feedback
5. edit
6. pray some more
7. edit, edit, edit!
8. publish at your own risk
(these were not the exact words, I sort of made up my own version of how I remember it, but it's the basic gist.)
Once we put something out there it is no longer just yours. Our words are at the mercy of how others hear them, through the filter of their own experiences, judgments, and uniqueness. Still, we are responsible for whatever we are putting out into the universe. Our words have the power to give great healing and comfort, but also to cause pain and destruction.
You can't please everyone all of the time, and you'd be doomed to make your writing depend on what others thought. But by checking our own motivations we can stand by our words knowing that we have acted with a heart of love and integrity. Then, when criticism comes, we are like a tree that does not break, but sways in the storm.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Be careful what you wish for
When you ask God for courage, he gives you the opportunity to be courageous.
When you ask for peace, he gives you the chance to create it.
When you ask to know his heart, he shows you the pain as well as the Joy.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Drops in a bucket
It has been a crazy few weeks, a crazy few days. But it has also been a unique time for reflection. I feel like lessons have been pouring down on me, trials of faith, hardship, loss, all bring the gift of wisdom if we choose to receive them that way.
I haven't slept well for the past couple of nights, and in my sleep deprived, under caffeinated state, I can't quite bring myself to piece together a long and thoughtful post. So instead I want to share with you just a few drops of wisdom, things I have been thinking about and reflecting on in the last few days. I don't think they need much extrapolation except for in whatever way you might apply them to your own life, because isn't that what matters anyway?
The accompanying pictures are from this past Saturday when the family and I spent the day at a farm picking apples and peaches. Enjoy!
Do not make idols of men, or put people up on a pedestal. Men will falter and fall short, as we all do. When my faith is in God and not the works of men, including my own, then it is strong and unshakable.
The most important thing, and the most valuable thing I ever learned was how to Love, and the meaning of REAL Love. I would gladly trade my college degree for that. That kind of education is priceless and precious.
Never judge. Only God knows the path that someone else has had to walk. All of life is a mirror, when we judge others we judge ourselves.
If you get mud thrown in your face, do not throw it back, but do not hide your emotions either. Let yourself feel pain, so that you can move quickly to a place of compassion, forgiveness, and peace.
It is not a burden to serve others, but a precious gift. If you are lucky enough to be well situated in life, it is your honor, not your duty, to give of yourself whether it be your money, time, or love.
I haven't slept well for the past couple of nights, and in my sleep deprived, under caffeinated state, I can't quite bring myself to piece together a long and thoughtful post. So instead I want to share with you just a few drops of wisdom, things I have been thinking about and reflecting on in the last few days. I don't think they need much extrapolation except for in whatever way you might apply them to your own life, because isn't that what matters anyway?
The accompanying pictures are from this past Saturday when the family and I spent the day at a farm picking apples and peaches. Enjoy!
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Aboji
Many of you have heard the news, that the founder of my church, the Rev. Sun Myung Moon, passed away on September 3rd at 93 years old (Korea time).
Followers had been offering prayers and conditions for his health, ever since he entered the hospital almost two weeks ago. Many prayed for a miracle, but it is God's will be done, not ours.
When I first got the news, I lit a candle and said a short prayer for a safe journey. The whole day my facebook page was full of pictures and stories, statements of gratitude and love. I didn't have much time to reflect though while attending to the kids and getting ready for the start of the school week today. Later in the day I got a call from a reporter and was interviewed for the local paper. I got a little choked up at one point when I was telling her some of the stories and memories I had of seeing Father, but it still didn't really sink in. I was in an intilectual place of, "well we knew he was sick, he lived a long life, it was time, God bless".
The next morning, before I even got out of bed, I immediately had this feeling like the world had completely turned upside down.
It may seem strange for some people, to grieve over this man. But you see, he is the reason that my parents are married. Without that I would not exist. My husband would not exist, and neither would our beautiful children. Thousands of people can say the same thing. Even if that was the only thing he had accomplished (spoiler alert: it's not!), it would be a tremendous legacy.
I have never known a time when he wasn't here. Suddenly, on that morning, the world felt different because of his absence.
I had been working on a different post this weekend and decided to do some writing. I sat down and played a TED talk video that I was basing it on. It is an inspiring video about a man who documented the democratic elections in Ghana. As I watched and listened to this man's story again, I became overwhelmed with emotion. It wasn't just the story (I had watched the video several times already), but it was this intense feeling of empathy and longing; of love for another human being, and the common human experience. I felt his pain, his triumph, his heart, I understood him, not just intellectually, but as if he WERE me.
When I was a little girl, I used to have experiences where I would just start crying for no reason. Or I would see something that made me sad, like a lost pet or a friend's parents getting divorced, and I would dissolve into sobs for an hour, a kind of grief that I couldn't explain. Once when I woke up crying in the middle of the night, my Mother told me, "you are feeling the heart of God, he is sharing his heart with you."
Not since I was a little girl have I experienced it, until now. That's what I felt when I watched the video. I can't help but think that the recent events, perhaps Father Moon's spirit, has opened up that child like part of me, that deep connection to the Divine that I learned to suppress as an adolescent and adult.
For the first time I see it as a gift, that I can love people deeply and see them from God's viewpoint, even though it is also painful.
The past week has been a mix of emotions. While many people have been sharing wonderful and inspiring stories, it is hard to avoid the negative comments that we all expected. I was starting to get really sad, reading the comments that people were posting at the ends of articles about the passing, and even Facebook posts from people who I have called friends, openly mocking a dying man. I felt deep pain, and struggled to forgive them for the words that I found hurtful and disrespectful.
Rev. Moon's daughter, In Jin Moon, gave a speech this past week to members while updating people on her father's health. In it she talked about her own struggles as a child to accept her father and she recounted an incident where she asked her mother, "How do we know? How do we know if he is a Messiah?" and Mother responded, "It is not your belief that makes him who he is, it is God that anoints. It is God that chooses"
In the end, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, it only matters what God thinks. My heart for people, a deep love for others, the ability to understand "real" love and not just some Hollywood version, the wonderful family I had growing up, a supportive faith community, my amazing husband, my precious children, are all gifts that Father Moon has given me.
To those that still hold some animosity towards Rev. Moon, let this be a release for you, because as the Buddha says, "Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one getting burned."
It is time to put on our thick skins, and embrace those that hurt us, the way Father did to the man who once imprisoned him. To love our enemies as Jesus taught, and maybe to realize that there really are no enemies, only our brothers and sisters, only ourselves, all part of the same human family, the same Heavenly Parent.
I love you all, may God be with you and your family.
Followers had been offering prayers and conditions for his health, ever since he entered the hospital almost two weeks ago. Many prayed for a miracle, but it is God's will be done, not ours.
When I first got the news, I lit a candle and said a short prayer for a safe journey. The whole day my facebook page was full of pictures and stories, statements of gratitude and love. I didn't have much time to reflect though while attending to the kids and getting ready for the start of the school week today. Later in the day I got a call from a reporter and was interviewed for the local paper. I got a little choked up at one point when I was telling her some of the stories and memories I had of seeing Father, but it still didn't really sink in. I was in an intilectual place of, "well we knew he was sick, he lived a long life, it was time, God bless".
(You can read the article here)
The next morning, before I even got out of bed, I immediately had this feeling like the world had completely turned upside down.
It may seem strange for some people, to grieve over this man. But you see, he is the reason that my parents are married. Without that I would not exist. My husband would not exist, and neither would our beautiful children. Thousands of people can say the same thing. Even if that was the only thing he had accomplished (spoiler alert: it's not!), it would be a tremendous legacy.
I have never known a time when he wasn't here. Suddenly, on that morning, the world felt different because of his absence.
I had been working on a different post this weekend and decided to do some writing. I sat down and played a TED talk video that I was basing it on. It is an inspiring video about a man who documented the democratic elections in Ghana. As I watched and listened to this man's story again, I became overwhelmed with emotion. It wasn't just the story (I had watched the video several times already), but it was this intense feeling of empathy and longing; of love for another human being, and the common human experience. I felt his pain, his triumph, his heart, I understood him, not just intellectually, but as if he WERE me.
When I was a little girl, I used to have experiences where I would just start crying for no reason. Or I would see something that made me sad, like a lost pet or a friend's parents getting divorced, and I would dissolve into sobs for an hour, a kind of grief that I couldn't explain. Once when I woke up crying in the middle of the night, my Mother told me, "you are feeling the heart of God, he is sharing his heart with you."
Not since I was a little girl have I experienced it, until now. That's what I felt when I watched the video. I can't help but think that the recent events, perhaps Father Moon's spirit, has opened up that child like part of me, that deep connection to the Divine that I learned to suppress as an adolescent and adult.
For the first time I see it as a gift, that I can love people deeply and see them from God's viewpoint, even though it is also painful.
The past week has been a mix of emotions. While many people have been sharing wonderful and inspiring stories, it is hard to avoid the negative comments that we all expected. I was starting to get really sad, reading the comments that people were posting at the ends of articles about the passing, and even Facebook posts from people who I have called friends, openly mocking a dying man. I felt deep pain, and struggled to forgive them for the words that I found hurtful and disrespectful.
Rev. Moon's daughter, In Jin Moon, gave a speech this past week to members while updating people on her father's health. In it she talked about her own struggles as a child to accept her father and she recounted an incident where she asked her mother, "How do we know? How do we know if he is a Messiah?" and Mother responded, "It is not your belief that makes him who he is, it is God that anoints. It is God that chooses"
In the end, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, it only matters what God thinks. My heart for people, a deep love for others, the ability to understand "real" love and not just some Hollywood version, the wonderful family I had growing up, a supportive faith community, my amazing husband, my precious children, are all gifts that Father Moon has given me.
To those that still hold some animosity towards Rev. Moon, let this be a release for you, because as the Buddha says, "Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one getting burned."
It is time to put on our thick skins, and embrace those that hurt us, the way Father did to the man who once imprisoned him. To love our enemies as Jesus taught, and maybe to realize that there really are no enemies, only our brothers and sisters, only ourselves, all part of the same human family, the same Heavenly Parent.
I love you all, may God be with you and your family.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Let the sunshine in
As I was straightening up the house the other day I decided to wash all of the windows and mirrors. With the constant parade of laundry, dishes, and child-based messes, this is a chore I get around to every couple of months if that. It's a simple thing, and doesn't take that much elbow grease, but it's amazing what a difference it makes. You don't even realize how compromised your view was until you are suddenly staring through a crystal clear window.
It made me think about how we all have metaphorical smudges, things that keep us from seeing the world clearly. It could be anger or resentment, maybe a grudge we are holding. Maybe it's something we have been ignoring or putting off, like a hard conversation, or finally starting that exercise routine, or quitting smoking. Maybe it's our own beliefs about who we are, how we are unworthy or not good enough. Maybe it's the judgements we make about other people, expecting them to be perfect or live up to our own standards that even we fall short of. More than likely, it's a combination of many things that accumulate over time. And just like the dirty windows, after a certain point we stop noticing the smudges, and it becomes the filter through which we see the world. We may not even know what we are missing until we take the time to wipe the windows clean. Who knew the glass could be so clear? The sun could shine so bright?
It made me think about how we all have metaphorical smudges, things that keep us from seeing the world clearly. It could be anger or resentment, maybe a grudge we are holding. Maybe it's something we have been ignoring or putting off, like a hard conversation, or finally starting that exercise routine, or quitting smoking. Maybe it's our own beliefs about who we are, how we are unworthy or not good enough. Maybe it's the judgements we make about other people, expecting them to be perfect or live up to our own standards that even we fall short of. More than likely, it's a combination of many things that accumulate over time. And just like the dirty windows, after a certain point we stop noticing the smudges, and it becomes the filter through which we see the world. We may not even know what we are missing until we take the time to wipe the windows clean. Who knew the glass could be so clear? The sun could shine so bright?
Friday, August 24, 2012
Bacon Love
When I was younger, my mother would always take the burnt piece of chicken or burger, or whatever we were having for dinner that night. I found this odd, why would anyone want and willingly take the burnt piece all the time?
Today I took the burnt pieces of bacon at breakfast and gave the good ones to Miles, and I get it. True Love.
Today I took the burnt pieces of bacon at breakfast and gave the good ones to Miles, and I get it. True Love.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
The hardest thing
I recently came across something I wrote about eight months ago, when Miles was in the throws of the "terrible threes tantrum" stage. Though things have improved greatly on this front, the wisdom still rings true:
As I read over this I felt deeply that this is the heart of God, our Heavenly Parent. Ever watching his children make mistakes, walking into danger, and having temper tantrums. Doing nothing, letting us make the mistake so we can learn the lesson, letting us feel a broken heart so that we grow, not intervening in our temper tantrum, it may be what is best for us. But it's the hardest thing to do.
The other day I met with my son's pre-school teacher. She told me about how smart he was and what a great vocabulary, and then commented, "he has such a strong personality!" Which is teacher speak for, your son is crazy! God bless her.
As I write this, he is throwing a tantrum in the kitchen. A full on kicking and screaming, red faced, writhing on the floor tantrum. All because the spoon he wanted to eat his breakfast with was dirty.
These are the things that they don't tell you about when you bring home that little sweet bundle who sleeps more than he's awake. How I miss those days sometimes...
The terrible threes (the common term is "terrible twos, but I swear he was an angel compared to three.) have tested my patience more than anything else I've faced yet. and the fact that I'm doing it with a six month old in tow means that I'm doing it on half the sleep. Sitting here writing about it is my attempt to disconnect emotionally from the situation. All the parenting books and experts say to not react to tantrums, let them run their course and then try to talk to them when they calm down. These experts must also be Buddhist monks because nothing can raise your blood pressure and get the cortisol pumpnig quite like a three year old having a temper tantrum. I start to feel anxious at just the sound of a child screaming, even if it's not mine! What I've found so far in my parenting adventure, is that doing nothing is the hardest thing. You want to fix it, you want to comfort, you want to push some switch to make them feel better...and to make your ears stop ringing. But the more you feed into the temper, the longer it lasts, so here I am fighting against every instinct, hammering out my frustration on the keyboard.
Still, in a few minutes I will most likely go over to him, put my arms around him and just hold him while he cries. And when he calms down I'll go over to the sink and wash the dirty spoon so he can have it with his cereal. Am I setting my son up for disappointment? That the world will not bow to his every request? Am I teaching him that the way to get what he wants is just to scream louder and for as long as he can? I don't know. Honestly, when I concern myself with doing everything "by the book" is when I get even more setressed out. It's those times, when I find myself reacting, arguing and trying to reason with a three year old.
Life is not by the book, if I expect it to be, then I will always be disapointed. Those parenting experts don't know me or my son. Sure they have PhD's and have done clinical studies, and maybe they have children of their own. But they don't have MY child. As a parent, sometimes you have to be the expert and listen to your own instincts.
Recently, my son came home from preschool with a note form the teacher, a two sided hand written note explaining his behavior, among other things it addressed the issue of his tantrums. Nothing I didn't already know, but it still hit me in the gut and sent my heart sinking. My first reaction was that of a Mama Bear to defend her cub. Then, shame; what must they think of me as a parent? What am I doing wrong? Do they dread having my son come?
Once I got over my own feelings and sat with it, I gave myself permission to not be perfect. I forgave myself for mistakes and gave myself credit for the good things that he does. I also told myself the hard truth, that even when you do everything right, they have to learn and figure things out for themselves. There will always be tantrums, always mistakes, always lessons to learn. "You have to let them leave the nest" is the common expression, I just didn't think I would have to start letting go so soon, I always imagined it as one big band-aid when they go away to college, but it's not, it's lots of tiny little steps that add up over time. A constant letting go, a quiet guidance, still loving, but from a little farther distance each time.
As I read over this I felt deeply that this is the heart of God, our Heavenly Parent. Ever watching his children make mistakes, walking into danger, and having temper tantrums. Doing nothing, letting us make the mistake so we can learn the lesson, letting us feel a broken heart so that we grow, not intervening in our temper tantrum, it may be what is best for us. But it's the hardest thing to do.
Friday, August 17, 2012
The Grocery Store
This morning I had to pick up some things at the grocery store, milk, bread, the breakfast stables. Miles woke up at 6 again so he of course came with me. If anyone ever invents a way to tap into a three year old' s energy supply they'll make millions. The maintenance guys are still cleaning the floors in the store and Miles is darting around aisles, grabbing things off shelves, and sprinting back and forth between the check out lanes. At the last minute, as I'm paying for our groceries (including a plastic orange ball that he wants to bring home for Skylar...really, how do you say no to that?) he grabs a bag of m&m's and runs out of the store. @&#^%!
I ran after him, leaving my bagged groceries behind and caught him just as he got to the automatic doors. I pulled him aside, rather forcefully, and said, "don't you ever run away from me like that again!" My adrenaline was pumping and I felt like I was outside of my body, watching myself on the security camera. I dragged him back to the check out and made him give back the m&ms and apologize to the clerk, who was actually laughing. Everyone took it in stride, and one of the women in line made a comment about how she wished she had that much energy early in the morning.
I was still seething though on the way out, I guess my body was still high on the adrenaline. I thought about that security camera, and how I've seen videos of moms on youtube, or seen them in person and how I've judged them in that one moment. I knew I over reacted a bit. No one should be judged on one small snap shot in time, and yet we do it all of the time, to each other and to ourselves. Sure, there are cases of real abuse or neglegence, but most of the time, that woman at the grocery store is a really good mom who just hasn't had her coffee yet and is doing the best she can.
We all make mistakes, especially in raising children, we're not perfect. The next time you see a mom scolding her kids, instead of judging and saying, "that will never be me", try just offering to carry her groceries. We all just need a little bit of support. After all, it takes a village!
I ran after him, leaving my bagged groceries behind and caught him just as he got to the automatic doors. I pulled him aside, rather forcefully, and said, "don't you ever run away from me like that again!" My adrenaline was pumping and I felt like I was outside of my body, watching myself on the security camera. I dragged him back to the check out and made him give back the m&ms and apologize to the clerk, who was actually laughing. Everyone took it in stride, and one of the women in line made a comment about how she wished she had that much energy early in the morning.
I was still seething though on the way out, I guess my body was still high on the adrenaline. I thought about that security camera, and how I've seen videos of moms on youtube, or seen them in person and how I've judged them in that one moment. I knew I over reacted a bit. No one should be judged on one small snap shot in time, and yet we do it all of the time, to each other and to ourselves. Sure, there are cases of real abuse or neglegence, but most of the time, that woman at the grocery store is a really good mom who just hasn't had her coffee yet and is doing the best she can.
We all make mistakes, especially in raising children, we're not perfect. The next time you see a mom scolding her kids, instead of judging and saying, "that will never be me", try just offering to carry her groceries. We all just need a little bit of support. After all, it takes a village!
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
The Classroom of Life
Yesterday the boys were up at 6am. I had an appointment with my chiropractor that I thought would go long so I packed us up-- ready to head to school right afterwards. The appointment took less time than expected and we had an hour to kill. Instead of going back home we drove to a park that we pass everyday and yet have never stopped at. It was a beautiful way to start the day. Only a few people were out, running or walking their dogs. There were ducks in the water and a soft gentle breeze. I sat on a bench near-by and prayed while the kids played on the shinny playground equipment.
It's good to stop and connect every once in awhile. We can get so busy with our everyday lives that a small shift in routine can actually create a huge difference and help us re-energize. It doesn't have to be big, but take a different route home, stop at that new restaurant you've been meaning to try, play a board game with friends instead of watching TV. One of my favorite things to do is actually to turn off the radio in the car and sing my own songs, or say a prayer. The little things we do can help us stay present, connected, and maybe see the rest of the day ahead with new eyes.
I have some exciting developments in the works, new projects and experiences that I'm looking forward to. I'll share more details when it's the right time. Maybe it's because of all those Target back-to-school commercials, but I kind of feel like a kid anticipating the first day of school. New beginnings, new challenges, excited and anxious all at once. We may not all be college or high school students anymore, but we will always be students of life.
What things are you looking forward to this school year?
It's good to stop and connect every once in awhile. We can get so busy with our everyday lives that a small shift in routine can actually create a huge difference and help us re-energize. It doesn't have to be big, but take a different route home, stop at that new restaurant you've been meaning to try, play a board game with friends instead of watching TV. One of my favorite things to do is actually to turn off the radio in the car and sing my own songs, or say a prayer. The little things we do can help us stay present, connected, and maybe see the rest of the day ahead with new eyes.
I have some exciting developments in the works, new projects and experiences that I'm looking forward to. I'll share more details when it's the right time. Maybe it's because of all those Target back-to-school commercials, but I kind of feel like a kid anticipating the first day of school. New beginnings, new challenges, excited and anxious all at once. We may not all be college or high school students anymore, but we will always be students of life.
What things are you looking forward to this school year?
Monday, August 13, 2012
Mama Mia
Here's a lesson in irony for all you English students out there.
When I was a child I HATED pizza. I know, I know, it's crazy. A kid who doesn't like pizza?! But that was me. And it wasn't like I never tried it, I did! In fact, I desperately WANTED to like it. I hated having to bring my own food to a birthday party if I knew they were serving pizza, or explaining to my soccer coach that I didn't like it after he took the team out for lunch. More than once I either forced myself to swallow a few bites while trying not to gag, or I just went hungry. It was embarrassing and it made me feel like there was something wrong with me. I did everything possible to keep this strange eating quirk secret if I could.
Fast forward ten years, an evolution of taste buds, and a trip to Italy later, and suddenly Italian food is my absolute favorite. Pizza and Pasta everyday and I would be a happy girl. In fact, after my trip to Italy I became somewhat of a pizza snob (thin crust, fresh mozz,...mmm).
One more jump in time: The past year I've been struggling with health issues. Forgive me if it's TMI, but it's all part of the story. If you don't feel like reading about the messy details then go ahead and skip to the end, it still gets the point across.
It all started when I was pregnant with my second son. I started having a lot of digestive issues. Stomach cramps, diareah, nausea. At first I thought it was just normal pregnancy stuff. When I was about five months along though, I caught a stomach bug, and instead of it lasting 24 hours like they usually would, it lasted over a week. I was miserable and freaked out about becoming dehydrated. Nothing worked, even eating rice or bread would go right through me and I literally had to starve myself for almost two days in order to finally get better. After that incident I was concerned but things went back to normal for a bit so I was just focused on my pregnancy. Later that summer, after Skylar was born, I got sick again, except this time it lasted for almost a month. After starting to feel better for a few days I decided to have a nice breakfast since I was staying with some friends (we were escaping from no electricity at our house during Hurricane Irene). About twenty minutes after breakfast I felt an intense pain in my stomach and I knew I had to throw up. I quickly handed off my two month old to my husband and ran to the bathroom. My stomach was cramping and the vomiting was painful. Afterwards I collapsed on the bathroom floor, so weak that I could barely get up. I actually called my husband on my cell phone even though he was in the next room and told him I needed to go to the hospital. This time I really did get dehydrated. After a few hours on fluids and anti-nausea medication in the emergency room, blood tests, stool, and urine samples, I was told I could go home and anything unusual from the tests they would let me know. I followed up with my regular doctor and it took about a week longer to get over it completely. Nothing came back on the test results, so I went about life as normal. Things seemed to even out a bit over the next few months but every once in a while I would have that nauseous feeling again or wake up in the middle of the night with horrible stomach pains. Eventually I got sick of it, and after having not felt much confidence in my doctors I decided to do my own research. I looked up my symptoms online and possible things that could be causing them. After much research I decided to cut out gluten and dairy from my diet and see if it made a difference. It was really tough at first, but after about two weeks I started to feel better than I have in almost two years. I was feeling great, and not just physically, I felt a relief because I had finally figured out what was going on. I approached a doctor about getting tested for Celiacs Disease--a disease that causes the body to not be able to digest gluten and damages the small intestines. That's when I found out that I would have to start eating gluten again in order to get accurate test results. ugh. The first week was torture. Towards the end of the month my body built up a tolerance again, but I still felt like I was living in a fog.
I had an endoscopy and colonoscopy done, and all the necessary blood tests. Everything came back negative and the doctor said it must just be IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) which is basically a doctor's way of saying, "I have no idea what it is", with lactose and gluten intolerance. Okay, so great, no celiacs disease, just intolerant. So I continued to eat gluten free, but I admit that because the diagnosis wasn't serious, I began to cheat every once in awhile. All of a sudden I'm the girl who can't eat Pizza again! And even though it's not just a taste bud issue, but a medical one, it brings me back to that place as a kid, where I don't want to be the "weird girl" with food issues. If someone offers me a muffin, it's easier for me to accept it--knowing the physical consequences that I may suffer later--than to just explain I can't eat it and get "the look". I know that it's mostly in my head that anyone would think I am weird, or being hyper sensitive, or just on a fad diet. But for some reason it's something that I struggle with. It's like being ten and just wanting to eat a damn piece of pizza so I can fit in.
Just last week, after some cheating, I developed a rash. An ugly, itchy, annoying rash, on my chest and arms. The only thing I could think of that could cause it was my gluten intake. Which makes me put away any doubt that I am gluten intolerant and possibly even Celiac, even though my test results were negative (there is a high percentage of false negatives when testing for celiacs especially for people who already started eating gluten free). It's been a crazy journey, and it's made me realize some things about myself.
I am using this set back as a new beginning. Recommitting to the gluten free diet, no more cheating, and even more importantly, confronting these issues that seem to be resurfacing as a result. Among them, sharing my own struggles, listening to my body and trusting it, making peace with the hand I've been dealt, and not worrying about what others may think.
Good thing there is a bakery in town that makes an amazing gluten free pizza :)
Wishing you all health and happiness, spiritually and physically.
When I was a child I HATED pizza. I know, I know, it's crazy. A kid who doesn't like pizza?! But that was me. And it wasn't like I never tried it, I did! In fact, I desperately WANTED to like it. I hated having to bring my own food to a birthday party if I knew they were serving pizza, or explaining to my soccer coach that I didn't like it after he took the team out for lunch. More than once I either forced myself to swallow a few bites while trying not to gag, or I just went hungry. It was embarrassing and it made me feel like there was something wrong with me. I did everything possible to keep this strange eating quirk secret if I could.
Fast forward ten years, an evolution of taste buds, and a trip to Italy later, and suddenly Italian food is my absolute favorite. Pizza and Pasta everyday and I would be a happy girl. In fact, after my trip to Italy I became somewhat of a pizza snob (thin crust, fresh mozz,...mmm).
One more jump in time: The past year I've been struggling with health issues. Forgive me if it's TMI, but it's all part of the story. If you don't feel like reading about the messy details then go ahead and skip to the end, it still gets the point across.
It all started when I was pregnant with my second son. I started having a lot of digestive issues. Stomach cramps, diareah, nausea. At first I thought it was just normal pregnancy stuff. When I was about five months along though, I caught a stomach bug, and instead of it lasting 24 hours like they usually would, it lasted over a week. I was miserable and freaked out about becoming dehydrated. Nothing worked, even eating rice or bread would go right through me and I literally had to starve myself for almost two days in order to finally get better. After that incident I was concerned but things went back to normal for a bit so I was just focused on my pregnancy. Later that summer, after Skylar was born, I got sick again, except this time it lasted for almost a month. After starting to feel better for a few days I decided to have a nice breakfast since I was staying with some friends (we were escaping from no electricity at our house during Hurricane Irene). About twenty minutes after breakfast I felt an intense pain in my stomach and I knew I had to throw up. I quickly handed off my two month old to my husband and ran to the bathroom. My stomach was cramping and the vomiting was painful. Afterwards I collapsed on the bathroom floor, so weak that I could barely get up. I actually called my husband on my cell phone even though he was in the next room and told him I needed to go to the hospital. This time I really did get dehydrated. After a few hours on fluids and anti-nausea medication in the emergency room, blood tests, stool, and urine samples, I was told I could go home and anything unusual from the tests they would let me know. I followed up with my regular doctor and it took about a week longer to get over it completely. Nothing came back on the test results, so I went about life as normal. Things seemed to even out a bit over the next few months but every once in a while I would have that nauseous feeling again or wake up in the middle of the night with horrible stomach pains. Eventually I got sick of it, and after having not felt much confidence in my doctors I decided to do my own research. I looked up my symptoms online and possible things that could be causing them. After much research I decided to cut out gluten and dairy from my diet and see if it made a difference. It was really tough at first, but after about two weeks I started to feel better than I have in almost two years. I was feeling great, and not just physically, I felt a relief because I had finally figured out what was going on. I approached a doctor about getting tested for Celiacs Disease--a disease that causes the body to not be able to digest gluten and damages the small intestines. That's when I found out that I would have to start eating gluten again in order to get accurate test results. ugh. The first week was torture. Towards the end of the month my body built up a tolerance again, but I still felt like I was living in a fog.
I had an endoscopy and colonoscopy done, and all the necessary blood tests. Everything came back negative and the doctor said it must just be IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) which is basically a doctor's way of saying, "I have no idea what it is", with lactose and gluten intolerance. Okay, so great, no celiacs disease, just intolerant. So I continued to eat gluten free, but I admit that because the diagnosis wasn't serious, I began to cheat every once in awhile. All of a sudden I'm the girl who can't eat Pizza again! And even though it's not just a taste bud issue, but a medical one, it brings me back to that place as a kid, where I don't want to be the "weird girl" with food issues. If someone offers me a muffin, it's easier for me to accept it--knowing the physical consequences that I may suffer later--than to just explain I can't eat it and get "the look". I know that it's mostly in my head that anyone would think I am weird, or being hyper sensitive, or just on a fad diet. But for some reason it's something that I struggle with. It's like being ten and just wanting to eat a damn piece of pizza so I can fit in.
Just last week, after some cheating, I developed a rash. An ugly, itchy, annoying rash, on my chest and arms. The only thing I could think of that could cause it was my gluten intake. Which makes me put away any doubt that I am gluten intolerant and possibly even Celiac, even though my test results were negative (there is a high percentage of false negatives when testing for celiacs especially for people who already started eating gluten free). It's been a crazy journey, and it's made me realize some things about myself.
I am using this set back as a new beginning. Recommitting to the gluten free diet, no more cheating, and even more importantly, confronting these issues that seem to be resurfacing as a result. Among them, sharing my own struggles, listening to my body and trusting it, making peace with the hand I've been dealt, and not worrying about what others may think.
Good thing there is a bakery in town that makes an amazing gluten free pizza :)
Wishing you all health and happiness, spiritually and physically.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
you have to laugh or you'll cry: UPDATE!
Miracle of miracles! My camera still works! What a lovely surprise :)
It just goes to show what a positive attitude can do! Not that a positive attitude made my camera work again (you never know!), but I could have been stressing about my camera this whole time, and mourning over the loss. Instead, because I chose to let it go, I spent the past couple of days happy and having fun with the kids, not missing it at all. Finding out that it wasn't really broken was just a bonus!
I'll be away for a few days so I may not post much the rest of the week.
Have a blessed week full of miracles!
It just goes to show what a positive attitude can do! Not that a positive attitude made my camera work again (you never know!), but I could have been stressing about my camera this whole time, and mourning over the loss. Instead, because I chose to let it go, I spent the past couple of days happy and having fun with the kids, not missing it at all. Finding out that it wasn't really broken was just a bonus!
I'll be away for a few days so I may not post much the rest of the week.
Have a blessed week full of miracles!
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
you have to laugh or you'll cry
Sunday, I looked outside and noticed a scratch on the car. As I got closer I realized it looked curiously like the kind of scribble my three year old would make. I went over and asked him about it. He said, "I wrote my name, because it's my car!" I explained to him that this was not a good thing to do. Luckily we have a lease that pretty much covers everything so I can just get a touch up. I actually laughed because now I'm driving around with my three year old's signature on the door, it's pretty cute. I took a picture and was going to post it here, but that brings me to my next story.
Later that day, Miles came running into the living room where I was reading a book and exclaimed excitedly, "Mama! I put your camera in the fish tank!"
"you didn't!" was my reply. And I ran to the office to see for myself. Sure enough, there was my brand new camera, a birthday present from my husband, sitting at the bottom of the tank. This happened once before with my old camera, but that one was water proof, so we all had a good laugh and moved on...but this one, not so much.
I reacted. "No! Oh no!". Miles frowned, it wasn't the reaction he had hoped for. My exclamations brought my husband into the room and he yelled, "Miles!"
That's when he broke down. His little lip started quivering and he collapsed into sobs. Right away I switched gears. I held him and comforted him, and I told him that I loved him more than my camera, and more than anything in the world. It took a good twenty minutes before he was his normal smiley self again.
If you're a parent, you know that pretty much anything you own is at risk. We learned quickly how foolish it was to get a white rug. Kids make a mess, they break things, it doesn't matter how careful you are, if you have a baby or are about to have one, just take all of your valuables away right now and lock them in storage for the next 18 years. Really, it's inevitable, if it hasn't happened yet, it will. There's even a whole site devoted to it: http://www.shitmykidsruined.com/
It goes along with one of my parenting mottos: "you have to laugh or you'll cry!"
I do choose to laugh, because in the end, it's not the stuff that really matters, it's that sweet little boy you hold in your arms. All the cameras in the world couldn't replace that. Kids are mischief makers, but they never fail to remind you of what is really important in life. One of the many lessons my kids have taught me is to not be so attached to "stuff". Next time though, I'll keep the camera out of reach.
Later that day, Miles came running into the living room where I was reading a book and exclaimed excitedly, "Mama! I put your camera in the fish tank!"
"you didn't!" was my reply. And I ran to the office to see for myself. Sure enough, there was my brand new camera, a birthday present from my husband, sitting at the bottom of the tank. This happened once before with my old camera, but that one was water proof, so we all had a good laugh and moved on...but this one, not so much.
I reacted. "No! Oh no!". Miles frowned, it wasn't the reaction he had hoped for. My exclamations brought my husband into the room and he yelled, "Miles!"
That's when he broke down. His little lip started quivering and he collapsed into sobs. Right away I switched gears. I held him and comforted him, and I told him that I loved him more than my camera, and more than anything in the world. It took a good twenty minutes before he was his normal smiley self again.
If you're a parent, you know that pretty much anything you own is at risk. We learned quickly how foolish it was to get a white rug. Kids make a mess, they break things, it doesn't matter how careful you are, if you have a baby or are about to have one, just take all of your valuables away right now and lock them in storage for the next 18 years. Really, it's inevitable, if it hasn't happened yet, it will. There's even a whole site devoted to it: http://www.shitmykidsruined.com/
It goes along with one of my parenting mottos: "you have to laugh or you'll cry!"
I do choose to laugh, because in the end, it's not the stuff that really matters, it's that sweet little boy you hold in your arms. All the cameras in the world couldn't replace that. Kids are mischief makers, but they never fail to remind you of what is really important in life. One of the many lessons my kids have taught me is to not be so attached to "stuff". Next time though, I'll keep the camera out of reach.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
A Break in the Storm
The last full day of camp was full of excitement. Everyone was preparing for the talent show that evening and enjoying the extra free time that afternoon. But I was starting to feel the effects of the four previous days, the late nights (Miles was scared of the dark), and just the overall exhaustion that comes from chasing little boys around camp!
By the afternoon I handed the kids over to Daddy and retreated to the cabin to take a nap. Sooner than I would have liked, the boys appeared at the cabin with a plan to go swimming. Still groggy and tired, I was less than enthused about this idea. In general I like to plan things out. I like to know what to expect for the day and fit things into a time slot so that I can prepare myself for what's ahead. My husband is sometimes more spontaneous, which is a good thing, but it generally takes me awhile to warm up to the idea. Still, I played along, we got our swim stuff ready, but then there was a discussion about the pool or the lake, did the boys need a nap? The car needs gas...
Okay, here's the plan: We decided to go get gas first and then go to the lake, but on the way, the boys both fell asleep in the car.
hmm...new plan: drive back to camp since there is only an hour left before dinner
back at camp we see my mom leaving for the lake saying, "oh! I thought we would see you there!"
Plan C: a few minutes after she pulls away we decide we'll go to the lake after all, even though it means waking the boys up from a nap and only a short time to swim.
The whole time I felt completely out of control and indecisive, but I tried to go with the flow as much as possible.
Finally, we ended up at the lake, both boys awake, swimming and playing happily in the water. By then, the sky had become overcast and the beach was starting to clear out. We heard a couple rumbles in the distance.
Miles was reluctant to leave, but we finally made it to our car just before the storm hit and the rain came down in sheets. The drive back to camp was certainly exciting! We nearly missed getting hit by a fallen tree branch, and the windshield wipers were working hard to keep up with the downpour.
I said a prayer of thanks when we made it back safely to camp. Everyone was gathered inside the dinning hall getting ready to sing for dinner. It created quite and intimate atmosphere. Miles immediately found his place in the center of the circle and proceeded to sing and dance, jumping up and down with pure joy. It was a beautiful moment; Thunder booming outside, our voices echoing the passion of mother nature; the relief of making it through the storm and being enveloped in the joy and excitement of the moment. Miles even gave the prayer for dinner--the crowd went wild!
Spontaneity is not always my strong suit, but when I can learn to accept it and just see what unfolds instead of trying to control the situation, wonderful things can happen. These are what make up our most memorable experiences. Sometimes you just have to stop worrying and sit back and see what unexpected gifts the day has to bring.
Open the door to possibility!
By the afternoon I handed the kids over to Daddy and retreated to the cabin to take a nap. Sooner than I would have liked, the boys appeared at the cabin with a plan to go swimming. Still groggy and tired, I was less than enthused about this idea. In general I like to plan things out. I like to know what to expect for the day and fit things into a time slot so that I can prepare myself for what's ahead. My husband is sometimes more spontaneous, which is a good thing, but it generally takes me awhile to warm up to the idea. Still, I played along, we got our swim stuff ready, but then there was a discussion about the pool or the lake, did the boys need a nap? The car needs gas...
Okay, here's the plan: We decided to go get gas first and then go to the lake, but on the way, the boys both fell asleep in the car.
hmm...new plan: drive back to camp since there is only an hour left before dinner
back at camp we see my mom leaving for the lake saying, "oh! I thought we would see you there!"
Plan C: a few minutes after she pulls away we decide we'll go to the lake after all, even though it means waking the boys up from a nap and only a short time to swim.
The whole time I felt completely out of control and indecisive, but I tried to go with the flow as much as possible.
Finally, we ended up at the lake, both boys awake, swimming and playing happily in the water. By then, the sky had become overcast and the beach was starting to clear out. We heard a couple rumbles in the distance.
Miles was reluctant to leave, but we finally made it to our car just before the storm hit and the rain came down in sheets. The drive back to camp was certainly exciting! We nearly missed getting hit by a fallen tree branch, and the windshield wipers were working hard to keep up with the downpour.
I said a prayer of thanks when we made it back safely to camp. Everyone was gathered inside the dinning hall getting ready to sing for dinner. It created quite and intimate atmosphere. Miles immediately found his place in the center of the circle and proceeded to sing and dance, jumping up and down with pure joy. It was a beautiful moment; Thunder booming outside, our voices echoing the passion of mother nature; the relief of making it through the storm and being enveloped in the joy and excitement of the moment. Miles even gave the prayer for dinner--the crowd went wild!
Spontaneity is not always my strong suit, but when I can learn to accept it and just see what unfolds instead of trying to control the situation, wonderful things can happen. These are what make up our most memorable experiences. Sometimes you just have to stop worrying and sit back and see what unexpected gifts the day has to bring.
Open the door to possibility!
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Camp Shehaqua: Day 1-2
How beautiful to be out in nature and to be with so many wonderful people! Since I'm here with young children, I find myself with even more free time than normal. As many people as there are, in the afternoons everyone is spread out over the camp with different activities. It leaves the main areas relatively quiet. In a way it would be nice to participate in some of the activities, but I've found ways to pass the time.
While the boys were playing in the sand box I found a nice level spot of grass to do some yoga. I love doing yoga outside, sans mat, there is something so freeing and energizing about it. Even though by the end the boys were trying to climb on my back during down-dog to get a horsie ride, it was nice while it lasted!
Meal times are always a bit chaotic with the crowds. I usually try to jump in line first or take a few things from the salad bar so that the kids can eat right away. At dinner, I got the kids all set up with my husband and then decided to go back in line to get food for him and I. I made my way to the back of the line, and even though several people offered to let me go ahead of them, I decided to wait it out. Actually, at this point waiting in line felt like a luxury. No squirmy baby in my arms or three year old darting in and out of the line. I felt completely content to move slowly and make conversation with the people standing next to me. It's really all about how we look at things. How many times have I gotten annoyed about waiting in line? In lines much smaller than this! But here, waiting in line feels like freedom, peace, like walking a labyrinth. It really makes it apparent that we have the ability to choose how we react to the circumstances we are given, and not let the circumstances themselves dictate our emotions. I will try to harness that feeling the next time I find my patience growing thin with a slow clerk at the grocery store!
I don't have hours or even minutes some days to sit in lotus and chant, but waiting in that dinner line was like a meditation; just being able to slow down, focus on the present moment, and be free for awhile from all the fast, frenetic, little boy energy. If we are present, anything we do can be a meditation. Anything we do can be a prayer. Sometimes it will be the most unexpected moment, the simplest thing, like standing in line for dinner, that creates the space for us to receive peace. The tiny moments are meaningful, every moment can be special.
God is talking to us all the time in these little moments. There is a story from right here at Camp Shehaqua where someone gave a testimony about how they found God in a bug. Maybe that fly that is buzzing around your head is really God trying to get your attention. God isn't always a big booming voice, more often than not, he shows up in the little things, and is easy to find if we just take the time to notice.
While the boys were playing in the sand box I found a nice level spot of grass to do some yoga. I love doing yoga outside, sans mat, there is something so freeing and energizing about it. Even though by the end the boys were trying to climb on my back during down-dog to get a horsie ride, it was nice while it lasted!
The Dinner Line
Meal times are always a bit chaotic with the crowds. I usually try to jump in line first or take a few things from the salad bar so that the kids can eat right away. At dinner, I got the kids all set up with my husband and then decided to go back in line to get food for him and I. I made my way to the back of the line, and even though several people offered to let me go ahead of them, I decided to wait it out. Actually, at this point waiting in line felt like a luxury. No squirmy baby in my arms or three year old darting in and out of the line. I felt completely content to move slowly and make conversation with the people standing next to me. It's really all about how we look at things. How many times have I gotten annoyed about waiting in line? In lines much smaller than this! But here, waiting in line feels like freedom, peace, like walking a labyrinth. It really makes it apparent that we have the ability to choose how we react to the circumstances we are given, and not let the circumstances themselves dictate our emotions. I will try to harness that feeling the next time I find my patience growing thin with a slow clerk at the grocery store!
I don't have hours or even minutes some days to sit in lotus and chant, but waiting in that dinner line was like a meditation; just being able to slow down, focus on the present moment, and be free for awhile from all the fast, frenetic, little boy energy. If we are present, anything we do can be a meditation. Anything we do can be a prayer. Sometimes it will be the most unexpected moment, the simplest thing, like standing in line for dinner, that creates the space for us to receive peace. The tiny moments are meaningful, every moment can be special.
God is talking to us all the time in these little moments. There is a story from right here at Camp Shehaqua where someone gave a testimony about how they found God in a bug. Maybe that fly that is buzzing around your head is really God trying to get your attention. God isn't always a big booming voice, more often than not, he shows up in the little things, and is easy to find if we just take the time to notice.
Monday, July 30, 2012
creating the kingdom
First of all I want to apologize for taking such a long hiatus from posting. Last week we were on vacation at camp where internet access was is sketchy at best. I hope to make up for it this week though with all of the notes and pictures I took while there!
I have been going to family camp since I was about 12, and now going with my own children is just amazing and a bit surreal. There is an inevitable low that comes when that week is over, part exhaustion, part having to say good-bye. We made it back Friday afternoon and I took the boys to the park to stretch our legs from the long car ride. I immediately lamented the change in local. Not just the surroundings of camp, which are beautiful, but the spirit and community there. At camp, Miles would hurry to eat his lunch so he could go back outside and play; running around the field, climbing trees, or playing in the sand box, no matter where he was I knew he was safe, because even if I wasn't there watching, someone else was.
The mentality there is that all the children are like our own children, all the adults look after everyone else's child, and all the children treat each other like brother and sister. I've always thought that being at camp was like a little taste of what the kingdom of heaven would be like. Everyone together as one family. Wouldn't it be great to live like that all the time? It makes you want to channel Thoreau and strike out for a cabin in the woods--of course in this version it would be with about a hundred of your closest friends and relatives! But even that would inevitably turn sour I think, because we are not perfect people. After a few weeks our fallen natures would start to show and start rubbing up against one another. I know I'm far from perfect. I get impatient, stressed, angry. I take things out on the people I love. I can be judgmental and selfish. Some people think that if you are concerned with spiritual things that you somehow manage things better, that you don't have these types of issues. I remember before i started meditating I thought of anyone who did it as having some sort of supernatural power to float above all of the problems, that they were somehow better at life in general. How wrong I was! I sometimes feel like I have been given these tools because I am the one who needs them the most! Anyway, the point is, It's not the setting that makes paradise, it's who you have to share it with.
Back at the park, Miles tried to play with a couple of kids a few years older than him. They were playing a game where they had a "club house", which was basically one whole side of the playground equipment. Except they wouldn't let anyone else in their club house, so when Miles wanted to play with them or to go down the slide on that side they told him to "get out of our clubhouse! you can't come in!" My Mama bear reflexes stirred, but I reminded myself that they were just children themselves and tried to use it as a teachable moment. I convinced Miles to make his own clubhouse on the other side and that we would let anyone come in (even the "mean kids", if they promised to be nice).
Eventually we have to go back to the real world. As much as we would like to stay in that little bubble, until we can actually make that society on the grand scale, we will have to be ready to deal with bullies, egos (other people's and our own!), and real evil. We always tell the kids at camp to take the lessons and the spirit home with them.
I hope to do that too. I hope that I can create that feeling of safety, love, and joy, and a true connection with God, in my own home, so that it can be like a spiritual armor when we inevitably venture outside the safety of its walls. Perhaps if we can harness that spirit, we can help it start to spread to other homes, families, neighborhoods, and of course the park.
I have been going to family camp since I was about 12, and now going with my own children is just amazing and a bit surreal. There is an inevitable low that comes when that week is over, part exhaustion, part having to say good-bye. We made it back Friday afternoon and I took the boys to the park to stretch our legs from the long car ride. I immediately lamented the change in local. Not just the surroundings of camp, which are beautiful, but the spirit and community there. At camp, Miles would hurry to eat his lunch so he could go back outside and play; running around the field, climbing trees, or playing in the sand box, no matter where he was I knew he was safe, because even if I wasn't there watching, someone else was.
The mentality there is that all the children are like our own children, all the adults look after everyone else's child, and all the children treat each other like brother and sister. I've always thought that being at camp was like a little taste of what the kingdom of heaven would be like. Everyone together as one family. Wouldn't it be great to live like that all the time? It makes you want to channel Thoreau and strike out for a cabin in the woods--of course in this version it would be with about a hundred of your closest friends and relatives! But even that would inevitably turn sour I think, because we are not perfect people. After a few weeks our fallen natures would start to show and start rubbing up against one another. I know I'm far from perfect. I get impatient, stressed, angry. I take things out on the people I love. I can be judgmental and selfish. Some people think that if you are concerned with spiritual things that you somehow manage things better, that you don't have these types of issues. I remember before i started meditating I thought of anyone who did it as having some sort of supernatural power to float above all of the problems, that they were somehow better at life in general. How wrong I was! I sometimes feel like I have been given these tools because I am the one who needs them the most! Anyway, the point is, It's not the setting that makes paradise, it's who you have to share it with.
Back at the park, Miles tried to play with a couple of kids a few years older than him. They were playing a game where they had a "club house", which was basically one whole side of the playground equipment. Except they wouldn't let anyone else in their club house, so when Miles wanted to play with them or to go down the slide on that side they told him to "get out of our clubhouse! you can't come in!" My Mama bear reflexes stirred, but I reminded myself that they were just children themselves and tried to use it as a teachable moment. I convinced Miles to make his own clubhouse on the other side and that we would let anyone come in (even the "mean kids", if they promised to be nice).
Eventually we have to go back to the real world. As much as we would like to stay in that little bubble, until we can actually make that society on the grand scale, we will have to be ready to deal with bullies, egos (other people's and our own!), and real evil. We always tell the kids at camp to take the lessons and the spirit home with them.
I hope to do that too. I hope that I can create that feeling of safety, love, and joy, and a true connection with God, in my own home, so that it can be like a spiritual armor when we inevitably venture outside the safety of its walls. Perhaps if we can harness that spirit, we can help it start to spread to other homes, families, neighborhoods, and of course the park.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Sacred Spaces
The family and I spent the weekend camping. but it's not just any camp. It's the place I have been spending summers since kindergarten. It's where I made lifelong friendships, and honed my life-guarding skills. It's where I first met my husband. Camp Sunrise, in Harrimin State Park, NY will always hold a special place in my heart.
I love camping in general, but there is a certain spirit there. Driving up the hill and walking along the paths, memories came trickling back like a cool summer rain. When I propped my feet up on the bed in our cabin, I felt my whole body melt into the ground, as if I had become part of the camp itself. It's not just a familiar place, it's a sacred place, a "home away from home."
We spend a lot of time in our heads, but there is something about being in a particular physical place that helps to slow down the thoughts and find peace. We all have these places. Maybe it's in nature, like at camp or at the ocean (another one of my sacred spots). Maybe it's a favorite cafe downtown. It could be as simple as your favorite comfy chair in your own house. Whatever it is, if you are feeling stressed, or overwhelmed, try changing your space and see if that doesn't help ease your mind. If nothing comes to mind, perhaps it's time to create a new sacred space!
Spiritual people spend lots of energy on the internal, which is good. But we are mind AND body. The two are completely intertwined. Just as our internal state manifests itself in the physical, our physical environment can have a profound effect on our spirit. What does your sacred space look like? How can we make our everyday environment more of a sacred space?
Thursday, July 12, 2012
The BIG Story
I picked up a book at the library a few weeks ago called "Spiritual Parenting". The concept peeked my interest because I often think about how to instill spiritual values in my children. The author, a Christian, talks in the beginning about how most Christian children are educated about the Bible when they are young. Most of the time they hear bits and pieces, random stories (Noah's arc, Moses, the birth of Jesus, etc.), and not necessarily in chronological order. She said that while these stories have value on their own, the real power of the Bible is the BIG story. When all these stories are put into context, they become part of a much grander story, the work of God throughout the generations to bring about a savior to the earth. Jesus becomes the hero in an epic tale of good vs. evil, and his promise to return again helps them see where they fit into the big picture.
My first thought when reading this was, "wow, that actually IS how I was taught about the Bible." Thank you, Providence of Restoration*.
Second, I thought about what it means to have a BIG Story as an individual. We often cannot see how our present moment is shaping our future, how the things we are going through, or investing in now, may manifest down the road. We often don't notice in the moment how God is working, or how the Universe is guiding us behind the scenes.
When I look back at specific times in my life, my relationship with my husband for example, I can see how God worked to prepare us for each other, how he was orchestrating everything way before we knew. Why should now be any different? We cannot see it just yet because we are too close, but that's what faith is. We don't know how things will turn out, but faith is trusting that God is always there watching over us. Faith is trusting in the process and knowing that we are a part of something much bigger than ourselves.
What is your BIG Story? Hint: it's not over yet!
*Providence of Restoration: refers to the Chapters in the Divine Principle that talk about how God worked to restore humanity after the fall of Adam and Eve to bring about a foundation for Jesus to come to earth. All of the stories in the Bible play a role in laying the foundation for the Messiah.
My first thought when reading this was, "wow, that actually IS how I was taught about the Bible." Thank you, Providence of Restoration*.
Second, I thought about what it means to have a BIG Story as an individual. We often cannot see how our present moment is shaping our future, how the things we are going through, or investing in now, may manifest down the road. We often don't notice in the moment how God is working, or how the Universe is guiding us behind the scenes.
When I look back at specific times in my life, my relationship with my husband for example, I can see how God worked to prepare us for each other, how he was orchestrating everything way before we knew. Why should now be any different? We cannot see it just yet because we are too close, but that's what faith is. We don't know how things will turn out, but faith is trusting that God is always there watching over us. Faith is trusting in the process and knowing that we are a part of something much bigger than ourselves.
What is your BIG Story? Hint: it's not over yet!
*Providence of Restoration: refers to the Chapters in the Divine Principle that talk about how God worked to restore humanity after the fall of Adam and Eve to bring about a foundation for Jesus to come to earth. All of the stories in the Bible play a role in laying the foundation for the Messiah.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Crabby Crab
I've always identified with my astrological sign, Cancer; intuitive, sensitive, creative, oh yeah, and moody. I like and enjoy being with people, but sometimes I need to hide in my shell and block it all out. It's a safe place, or at least it's supposed to be. This weekend, in the middle of a lovely gathering, I started feeling the need to retreat. I just wanted to get away, I didn't want to talk to anyone else, even though they were all friends and great people. I was just itching for solitude, for my cozy, safe, shell.
The next day it was like living in a fog. My energy was sucked completely dry. Just walking up and down the stairs made me exhausted. Everything around me seemed to scream how I was failing. The dishes in the sink confronted me; the pile of laundry accused me; the unchecked to-do list judged me. It was hard for me to think clearly or communicate, the only clear feeling was that of being overwhelmed. I don't know if any other crabs experience this, but I've learned that it's part of my nature and the way I deal with stress and emotions. My shell is not just a place of retreat, it's also the perfect little container for all of my worries, stresses, and anxieties. Because of this I often have a sort of double life. I present one face to the world, of being happy and upbeat, but really, all those negative feelings are just being hidden away. So when I go back to my shell, instead of a quiet, peaceful place for me to recharge, I am met with all of those things I was trying to get away from. I know from personal experience that the bottling up eventually overflows, and yet it's hard to break the habit. It's so ingrained that it's effortless, and most of the time I don't even know I'm doing it.
I have these days from time to time, but it's been awhile. It actually came as a bit of a shock, it was like my "old" self came knocking and said, "I'm still here, you can't get rid of me". It's easy to get a bit self-righteous when you are on the path of bettering yourself; practicing being mindful, doing things like yoga, meditation, and looking at the positives in life. It's easy to fall into the trap of thinking that you've mastered it. But life throws a curve ball just to make sure we don't get too arrogant. It's a good reminder that we are never done growing. That the "problems" in life don't go away, we just learn how to deal with them better. There are still things I have to work on in myself. There always will be.
That night before bed, even though the day was already over, I decided I had had enough. I laid down on my pillow and just focused on my breath. A simple two minute meditation. I looked over at my baby boy, Skylar, who was passed out next to me and it all started to melt away. I don't know of anything more peaceful or more joyful than a sleeping child!
God gives us lessons through our struggles, but he has also given us everything we need to overcome them.
I'm in the process of doing some spring cleaning inside my shell, and filling it up with the peace and love that I deserve. After all, the sun is in Cancer, it's my month!
The next day it was like living in a fog. My energy was sucked completely dry. Just walking up and down the stairs made me exhausted. Everything around me seemed to scream how I was failing. The dishes in the sink confronted me; the pile of laundry accused me; the unchecked to-do list judged me. It was hard for me to think clearly or communicate, the only clear feeling was that of being overwhelmed. I don't know if any other crabs experience this, but I've learned that it's part of my nature and the way I deal with stress and emotions. My shell is not just a place of retreat, it's also the perfect little container for all of my worries, stresses, and anxieties. Because of this I often have a sort of double life. I present one face to the world, of being happy and upbeat, but really, all those negative feelings are just being hidden away. So when I go back to my shell, instead of a quiet, peaceful place for me to recharge, I am met with all of those things I was trying to get away from. I know from personal experience that the bottling up eventually overflows, and yet it's hard to break the habit. It's so ingrained that it's effortless, and most of the time I don't even know I'm doing it.
I have these days from time to time, but it's been awhile. It actually came as a bit of a shock, it was like my "old" self came knocking and said, "I'm still here, you can't get rid of me". It's easy to get a bit self-righteous when you are on the path of bettering yourself; practicing being mindful, doing things like yoga, meditation, and looking at the positives in life. It's easy to fall into the trap of thinking that you've mastered it. But life throws a curve ball just to make sure we don't get too arrogant. It's a good reminder that we are never done growing. That the "problems" in life don't go away, we just learn how to deal with them better. There are still things I have to work on in myself. There always will be.
That night before bed, even though the day was already over, I decided I had had enough. I laid down on my pillow and just focused on my breath. A simple two minute meditation. I looked over at my baby boy, Skylar, who was passed out next to me and it all started to melt away. I don't know of anything more peaceful or more joyful than a sleeping child!
God gives us lessons through our struggles, but he has also given us everything we need to overcome them.
I'm in the process of doing some spring cleaning inside my shell, and filling it up with the peace and love that I deserve. After all, the sun is in Cancer, it's my month!
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Independence Day
Today is the Fourth of July. It's my favorite holiday. Partly because it's the only holiday to fall right in the middle of my favorite season: Summer...and only 11 days away from my birthday too! I remember taking a blanket out to the park with my family and watching the fireworks. There are no pressures like Christmas to get and wrap gifts, no cooking like at Thanksgiving...even Halloween can be a bit stressful (especially if you have little kids). Nope, all you have to do on the 4th is go out and bask in the glow of the fireworks and the general good will and euphoria of those around you.
Even the most cynical of us can't help but be moved when "The Star Spangled Banner" is played over the explosion of lights and colors.
It's an election year, so the months ahead especially, will be a little nasty and divisive (at least if the current state of things is any predictor), but today we are all the same, Americans. All little kids staring in wonder at the beautiful lights, waving a flag and singing "God Bless America".
It's a good time to take a moment and be grateful. Grateful to be born or to live in a land of freedom. We have our own problems, and not everyone agrees on the way this country should be run, but our freedom to debate and to be a part of the process is what makes it so wonderful. We are fortunate that even the poorest among us, are better off than those in many other countries. We can be proud that our nation believes in giving back to the rest of the world whether it be through aid or service. We can feel honored and humbled by the fact that the rest of the world still largely looks to us for leadership.
The world is made up of countries. Countries of states, states of cities, cities of communities, communities of families, families of individuals.
Let me be the best I can be as an individual, to create the best family, to create the best community, state, country, and world.
Happy Independence Day!
Even the most cynical of us can't help but be moved when "The Star Spangled Banner" is played over the explosion of lights and colors.
It's an election year, so the months ahead especially, will be a little nasty and divisive (at least if the current state of things is any predictor), but today we are all the same, Americans. All little kids staring in wonder at the beautiful lights, waving a flag and singing "God Bless America".
It's a good time to take a moment and be grateful. Grateful to be born or to live in a land of freedom. We have our own problems, and not everyone agrees on the way this country should be run, but our freedom to debate and to be a part of the process is what makes it so wonderful. We are fortunate that even the poorest among us, are better off than those in many other countries. We can be proud that our nation believes in giving back to the rest of the world whether it be through aid or service. We can feel honored and humbled by the fact that the rest of the world still largely looks to us for leadership.
The world is made up of countries. Countries of states, states of cities, cities of communities, communities of families, families of individuals.
Let me be the best I can be as an individual, to create the best family, to create the best community, state, country, and world.
Happy Independence Day!
Monday, July 2, 2012
"I never said it would be easy, only that it would be worth it."
Nothing gets my blood boiling more than divisive arguments. All I have to do is scroll down to the comments section of an interesting article I just read online and quickly get sucked into a world of anonymous name calling, vitriol, and know-it-all rhetoric.
Though perhaps the most pervasive, it's not just on the internet, it's everywhere. From cable news and talk radio, to a couple fighting on the street. There will always be conflicting view points, but it seems like our society has hit a fever pitch when it comes to the volatility and frequency of the clash.
Maybe it's my training on a debate team, or just my personality that tends to be empathetic, but whenever there is an argument, I am that person in the comments section who either plays the devils advocate and tries to see the other side of the argument, or, I'm the one calling for both sides to just calm down and get along. I've discovered that most of this is fruitless though. Besides feeding our own egos, these kinds of discussions really don't do any good. It's a waste of time trying to change someone else's mind. They are just as convinced of their idea as you are of yours. When the need to be "right" over takes the need to communicate, all is lost. Sadly, that seems to be the way things turn nowadays.
I could never be in politics. I know many people who are smart, driven, and genuinely care about people and their country, but are completely turned off by the whole partisan game and broken system. Isn't it ironic that they might be the ones who could actually make a difference?
I read a response given by Eckart Tolle recently to a woman trying to navigate the different political viewpoints between her and her husband. In his response he quoted a Zen master, "Don't seek for the truth – just cease cherishing opinions".
He explained further that opinions, positions, perspectives, are just thoughts, and that we often take those on as an identity when they are not. It's just ego. In essence we build up a false identity consisting of all of our view points and judgments.
When someone comes along with a different opinion we feel offended. Why? because we have made that opinion our identity, so it feels like a personal attack on us. When we learn to identify with our True Identity, it is easy to exist in a world with opposing view points, because those views are no longer a threat to our identity. Imagine what we could do if people came to the table with this mentality? What problems could we solve? How many people could we help, including ourselves?
Sometimes the one with the solution is not the loudest voice in the room. Sometimes the best response is silence. Our voice is important, but it is a powerful weapon. We should learn to use it wisely and with compassion. Listening is an art. We often think we are listening, when really we hear only what we want to. It takes practice, respect, and a belief that others come to the table with the best of intentions. It takes knowing that we are not our thoughts or opinions.
My parents just celebrated their 30th Anniversary on Sunday. In a world where 50% of marriages end in divorce, it's nice to see people who are willing to stick it out for better or worse; To put aside the differences and focus on the places where they can work together. Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad. Here's hoping we can all learn a thing or two.
Though perhaps the most pervasive, it's not just on the internet, it's everywhere. From cable news and talk radio, to a couple fighting on the street. There will always be conflicting view points, but it seems like our society has hit a fever pitch when it comes to the volatility and frequency of the clash.
Maybe it's my training on a debate team, or just my personality that tends to be empathetic, but whenever there is an argument, I am that person in the comments section who either plays the devils advocate and tries to see the other side of the argument, or, I'm the one calling for both sides to just calm down and get along. I've discovered that most of this is fruitless though. Besides feeding our own egos, these kinds of discussions really don't do any good. It's a waste of time trying to change someone else's mind. They are just as convinced of their idea as you are of yours. When the need to be "right" over takes the need to communicate, all is lost. Sadly, that seems to be the way things turn nowadays.
I could never be in politics. I know many people who are smart, driven, and genuinely care about people and their country, but are completely turned off by the whole partisan game and broken system. Isn't it ironic that they might be the ones who could actually make a difference?
I read a response given by Eckart Tolle recently to a woman trying to navigate the different political viewpoints between her and her husband. In his response he quoted a Zen master, "Don't seek for the truth – just cease cherishing opinions".
He explained further that opinions, positions, perspectives, are just thoughts, and that we often take those on as an identity when they are not. It's just ego. In essence we build up a false identity consisting of all of our view points and judgments.
When someone comes along with a different opinion we feel offended. Why? because we have made that opinion our identity, so it feels like a personal attack on us. When we learn to identify with our True Identity, it is easy to exist in a world with opposing view points, because those views are no longer a threat to our identity. Imagine what we could do if people came to the table with this mentality? What problems could we solve? How many people could we help, including ourselves?
Sometimes the one with the solution is not the loudest voice in the room. Sometimes the best response is silence. Our voice is important, but it is a powerful weapon. We should learn to use it wisely and with compassion. Listening is an art. We often think we are listening, when really we hear only what we want to. It takes practice, respect, and a belief that others come to the table with the best of intentions. It takes knowing that we are not our thoughts or opinions.
My parents just celebrated their 30th Anniversary on Sunday. In a world where 50% of marriages end in divorce, it's nice to see people who are willing to stick it out for better or worse; To put aside the differences and focus on the places where they can work together. Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad. Here's hoping we can all learn a thing or two.
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